Alleycats and Billionaires
by Fae Faythe
Summary: Selina Kyle has nothing to do with Bruce Wayne. She's a thief, he's a billionaire. He lives in a palace and she lives in a single-bedroom apartment in the worst neighborhood in the city. But opposites attract, and before they were Catwoman and Batman, they were Selina and Bruce. And all love stories have to start somewhere.
1. Chapter 1

The collar of Bruce Wayne's suit was too tight. Probably because it was an old suit, one he hadn't worn since his seventeenth birthday almost a year ago. Huffing, he loosened his tie and pulled at the suit, cursing the whole event. Charity auctions were not his idea of a fun-filled afternoon. He hadn't even wanted to come, but Alfred had insisted. Something about "doing the duties that come with your last name, Master Wayne," and "making appearances. We wouldn't want people to talk, now would we?" Bruce didn't care if people talked. And besides, he was the billionaire orphan whose parents had been murdered in front of him; gossip was inevitable.

The auction itself was boring, just like he'd expected. Blake Manor was swarmed with press, all fawning on them for their good deeds. Technically, the auction was to raise money for defunded after school programs in the Narrows, but everyone there knew that it was just a publicity stunt. The whole thing was goddamn media circus and after just an hour, Bruce was already feeling stifled and claustrophobic.

"Feeling alright, Mr. Wayne?" one of the staff asked when Bruce tried to slip out the back. He'd never liked crowds, not to mention paparazzi, and the nauseating mix of both was making it hard to breathe.

"Just looking to get some air," Bruce replied, pinning on the sincere smile that had gotten him out of prying questions for five years. The man nodded curtly and Bruce swept past him, down a long hallway and up a staircase, praying for a door that led outside. Despite getting out of the crowd, it was still too hot, and the stagnant air turned the hallway into a tomb.

_Give me the money_! The masked man ordered, pointing a gun at his father. It was black, shiny and heavy, with a long muzzle. A silencer. Bruce froze in place, thirteen again and too scared to move.

_Easy there_, his father said in the even, cool tone he reserved for stubborn clients and bullheaded board members. _Take it_. For what felt like the millionth time, Bruce watched the gun swivel to point at his mother.

_Pearls_. The order was barked and his mother obeyed without question. The gunman snatched at the necklace with greedy fingers and one of the three strands snapped, spilling pearls onto the dirty street. They bounced once, twice, three times, pounding against the pavement and then there was a muffled popping and blood – blood everywhere. So much blood, staining elegant dresses and suit jackets, pooling on the wet pavement and painting white pearls red.

Then a voice, a girl's voice, speaking to him softly. _Hey_, it said, cutting through the ringing in his ears. Urgent, but not unkind. _Hey, you need to snap out of it. You're having a panic attack. Hey!" _A panic attack. Bruce was no stranger to those, but he hadn't had one in months. Almost six months, to be exact. Alfred had actually commented on it a few days before, noting it as good progress… _Wake up._

Cool hands gripped the sides of his face, blessed relief from the humidity of the night – the hall. The sudden cold snapped Bruce out of his own mind and he blinked rapidly, allowing reality to filter back in. He was on his knees, unaware of falling, and he quickly swiped at the tears that had collected on his lower lashes before they could dampen his cheeks. That had been bad. Bruce hadn't had an attack like that in long, long time. Five years ago, when it was still fresh, he'd suffered from night terrors, reliving the event over and over. Sometimes, like today, the nightmares filtered into his waking hours. Grief counselors and therapists, a whole legion of them, had predictably diagnosed him with PTSD and promised that his mind would heal in time. With time, and several sleep medications and anti-psychotics that Bruce never took.

Never, not once, had anyone been able to get through to him when it got this bad. The doctors said that it was like trying to wake a sleepwalker: Dangerous and nearly impossible. He'd always been told that the best thing to do was to simply ride it out. Bruce decided he preferred being snapped out of it.

"Thank you – " Bruce started before he realized that he was alone. "Hello?" For a moment he thought that he'd imagined the whole thing, that the girl's voice was an invention to help him cope. But no, when he touched his fingers to his cheeks, they were definitely cooler than the rest of his face. Proof – if insubstantial – that there had been someone there with him.

Bruce stood shakily and set off down the hallway at random, hoping that he wasn't going the wrong way. There was a flash of movement at the end of the hall and Bruce called out again, to no reply.

"What…" he said, poking his head into the only cracked door he could find. "What are you doing?" A single figure stoof in the corner, silhouetted by light that Bruce realized too late that was coming from the inside of a safe. A safe that was open and – now – empty. It took him too long to understand. A thief? Here?

"You're not supposed to be here." Bruce recognized her voice, but he couldn't see her face, it was too obscured by shadows. The safe closed, plunging the room into complete darkness, and before Bruce could react, something shoved him aside, nearly knocking him over.

"Hey!" he protested, whirling around to see a flash of blondish hair turning the corner. "Come back!" He didn't even know what was in the safe, or how she'd even gotten into it, but there was no doubt that whatever she had stolen, it was priceless. The Blakes were the second-wealthiest family in the city, and anything they had to lock away must have been worth millions. "You!" Bruce rounded the corner and started running, trying to close the distance. The girl had the same idea and took off, flying over the carpeting without making a sound. Bruce swore under his breath and ran faster, ripping off the stupid tie that suddenly felt like it was strangling him. Why would she rob the Blakes now? It was the middle of the day, and there were paparazzi everywhere. She would be seen for sure!

Bruce willed her to turn, even for a moment. He wanted to see her face, but she never gave him the opportunity, rounding corners too fast for him to see anything but the back of her head and the backpack filled with whatever she'd stolen. It didn't look like very much.

"Heads up!" Bruce was given a second's notice before an ancient vase was hurled through the air, aimed for his face. He skidded to a stop, catching it just before it shattered and possibly broke his nose. "Bye now." Bruce let out a warning cry as the girl threw open a window and hopped through it. They were three stories up. There was no way she could land a fall like that, not without shattering her legs.

"Stop!" Bruce shouted once more, uselessly, sticking his head through the window just in time to see the girl shinny down a drainage pipe and jump to the ground like it was nothing. Bruce only caught a glimpse of a smile and the tangled mess of dirty blonde hair before she was off and running again, slipping through the fence with ease.

He'd been wrong before, Bruce thought as he pulled his head inside and slammed the window shut. Charity auctions, this one at least, were far from boring.

* * *

><p>Selina shouldn't have gotten involved. She was already inside when she found the guy on his knees, looking like the world was about to end. She should've just kept going – he was trapped inside his own head, it was obvious. He wasn't going to cause her any problems.<p>

But she stopped. Selina Kyle, the queen of keeping her nose out of other people's business, stopped. He was her age, and clearly a blueblood, gauging from the way he was dressed. Why was he even up here? With all of the press and attention focused on the auction downstairs, Selina had banked on the third floor being empty. Just her luck that it wasn't.

"Hey," she said, kneeling beside him. His eyes were huge, his pupils blown wide. His breath was coming in short gasps and his hands were shaking. "You need to snap out of it. You're having a panic attack." She'd seen the symptoms often enough. The boy didn't respond, but the boy's breathing evened slightly. He could hear her. "Hey!" she said, more intently, pressing her hands to the sides of his face. "Wake up." Selina watched as the boy's pupils shrank and his breathing returned to normal, and finally realized who it was she was treating. It was amazing that she hadn't realized sooner. Bruce Wayne. The goddamn prince of Gotham, of course it had to be him.

Confident that he would be okay and hating herself for stopping to help, Selina stood and made her way down the hall, keeping close to the walls in case there were any more catatonic billionaires lying in wait. She should have stuck to her plan, Selina berated herself. This was an easy job, one of the easiest she'd done in a long time. The Blake's security was focused on keeping trespassers from stealing anything from downstairs and they'd left the rest of the mansion open and vulnerable. She'd had to memorize the guards' patrol patterns, of course, but that was no problem. Finding a spot to scale the walls with no camera access was tougher, but still manageable. And now that she was in, it should've been cake. It would've been too, if she had just kept to the script.

Bruce Wayne was not in the script.

"Stupid," she chided, finding the door she was looking for and quickly picking the lock. Now she had to worry about a traumatized blueblood catching up to her on top of everything else. "Stupid stupid stupid." Selina found the safe easily, unoriginally hidden behind a picture frame, taking pains to unlock it quietly and efficiently. Her timetables had moved up and she needed to go. Now.

"What are you doing?" Selina had pushed the last of it into her backpack when the voice came from the doorway. She bit down a curse and softly stepped back into the shadows so he couldn't see her.

"You're not supposed to be here," she said angrily, unable to keep the accusatory bite out of her voice. But whether she was blaming him for the episode that had given her pause, or herself for pausing at all, Selina had no idea. She inhaled sharply through her nose and ran, nearly knocking the billionaire over in her haste to get out the door. She didn't stop to see if he'd fallen, too intent on her escape route.

Selina followed the map she'd memorized, twisting around corners and sprinting through the unnecessarily-long halls. But despite her lead, Wayne was gaining. And yelling, which would most certainly alert security. Selina had to get out.

"Heads up!" she warned, snatching a vase off of a random pedestal and hurling it at his head, careful not to show her face. Again, she didn't wait to see if it met its mark but shot forward, urgency making her heart beat faster. Even so, she couldn't help saying goodbye as she threw open a window and jumped to freedom. For one terrifying, exhilarating moment she was in free-fall, before her hand caught the drain pipe that she had scouted out a few days before. Selina let gravity do the rest, sliding down and jumping safely back down.

"Stop!" Selina heard the shout from the window and shook her head. She never should have stopped. It was a rookie move and she had been at this for too long to be making mistakes like that. Thieves couldn't afford audiences.

Getting back to her side of the city was easy, but time consuming. She couldn't go straight home in case Wayne had alerted the authorities, so Selina made her way across the city at random, sometimes on foot, sometimes catching public transportation. She hated heat runs. They were boring and, very often, unnecessary. But she had made enough stupid moves today; she wasn't going to allow herself to be followed.

"Yo Papi!" Selina called into the dimly-lit bar when she finally decided to head back.

"Hey, Sel," the man at the bar said, waving at her with a dirty dishcloth. "I'll tell the boss you're here." Papi vanished into the back only to reappear a second later, beckoning Selina into the room behind the bar.

"Ah, Selina," the familiar voice came from the back of the room. Gerald's voice. "You, my dear, are late. Was there trouble?" He gestured for her to sit.

"Just being careful," Selina said guardedly, unslinging her backpack and sliding into a chair. "You're always telling me to take fewer risks."

"That's because I can't afford to lose you, darling girl." Selina knew that Gerard liked her, but that didn't count for much. He was exceptionally well-mannered, especially for a mobster, but Selina had seen how quickly his polite façade could dissolve into violence. "Everything went smoothly I assume?"

"Always does," Selina lied, pinning a smile to her face. She wanted to get paid and go home. It had been a long day. "Here's everything you ordered." Selina unzipped her bag and pulled out a single flash drive, pushing it across the table.

"Selina you are a miracle worker." Gerald said, clapping his hands together with delight. "I've had people trying to work this job for weeks."

"Then you know to come to me first next time."

"You're the best, but you are expensive, love." Gerald said, shaking his head. "And worth every penny. Here," he said, passing her an envelope. Selina swept it into her bag. "Everything's been done to your exact specifications, as per usual." Selina nodded and stood, taking that as her cue to leave. "It's been a pleasure."

"Likewise," Selina said. "Next time you want something done right, you know where to find me."

"Oh such cloak and dagger," Gerard said. "I do adore that." Selina fought the urge to roll her eyes. Sometimes he was a little much for her.

"Don't you want to know what was on the drive?" Papi asked, walking her out. "Nope," Selina said shortly, striding out the door. She'd been paid to get a flash-drive and that's what she got. She'd also been seen, which was something that had never happened before and she hoped never would again.

"Hey Lina." A small boy sidled up beside her, keeping pace as she made her way back to her apartment. "You got anything for me today?"

"Tommy, you should not be out this late," Selina scolded lightly. "If they find you missing again there's going to be hell to pay."

"I'll be back before breakfast," Tommy replied, rolling his eyes. Selina smiled despite herself. Tommy was one of the dozens of kids left orphaned by gang violence, all living in St. Bart's Orphanage and at eleven he already had a knack for finding trouble. "Come on, I know you scored today. Why else would you be coming out of Gerard's bar?"

"You and I need to have a talk about boundaries," she said lightly. "Fine," Selina relented. "Here." She fished a crumpled twenty out of her bag and handed it to him. Tommy snatched it with greedy fingers. "And if I hear about you spending that on anything but candy and junk food, we're going to have problems, you hear me?"

"Gotcha," Tommy said, giving her a sharp salute before running down the street, whooping and hollering. Selina knew that she shouldn't be giving him handouts. There wasn't enough to go around as it was, and no one else was going to give him – or any of the St Bart's kids – freebies. They should get used to it now. Gotham wasn't a forgiving city, and if you couldn't survive on your own, there wasn't much anyone could do for you. And besides, the kids were starting to rely on her, Tommy especially. Selina tried to help when she could, but she worried that they wouldn't be able to hold their own without her. There was no such thing as job permanence in Selina's line of work, and in this city, people disappeared every day.

Selina shook her head, trying to banish those thoughts as she let herself into her apartment. She was fine. Everything was fine. She was just shaken because of what had happened at the Blakes. Making sure to lock the door behind her, Selina dropped her bag onto the table and flopped onto the couch, turning on the television. She was exhausted. Letting her eyes close, Selina let the newscaster's soft voices wash over her.

Despite living in a real apartment for over a year, Selina still couldn't sleep in silence. It made her twitchy and paranoid, an old habit she'd picked up from a childhood of sleeping under roadways and in noisy homeless camps. Silence was deadly, Selina had learned the hard way. When everything was quiet, it meant something terrible had happened.

"And in breaking news, the Blake family has reported a home invasion and robbery today in their family manor on White Hill. There are no leads yet as to what was stolen, or the identity of the thief, but we do know that the Blakes have employed their personal security and a team of private detectives to recover what was taken." Selina groaned, pulling a pillow over her eyes. Fantastic. Now she had a team of private detectives on her ass, and because of her stupid bleeding heart they could have her description. Hopefully her neighbors would know enough to keep their mouths shut if the cops came snooping around, looking for an nineteen-year-old thief who'd been suckered into saving a billionaire from a panic attack. Selina swore into the pillow. All she could do now was wait, and hope to God that Bruce Wayne didn't tell anyone that he'd seen her.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce hadn't told anyone that he'd seen her. He went back to the auction when he could process what had happened; smiled and made polite conversation, even bid on an item, until Alfred came to pick him up. It was like he was on autopilot, simply going through the motions while his mind whirled, trying to process.

It didn't take long for the Blakes to notice that something had been taken – in her haste, the girl hadn't returned the room to its pristine state. If she had, Bruce was willing to bet that her crime would have been discovered much later. But despite her rush to get away, the girl hadn't left anything behind. There were no leads, and he knew that he should come forward and tell the police what he knew. The GCPD was working overtime to find the culprit, but their search was too wide. Bruce knew that he could further their investigation – knowing that the thief was a girl no older than her early twenties would narrow the parameters considerably.

And yet he hadn't said anything to anyone. Not even Alfred. Instead he'd cloistered himself in his father's old study – his study now – and pored over each and every detail, refusing to forget anything that had transpired. He'd even had police reports delivered detailing robberies from the past year, looking for connections. The rational part of his mind reminded that withholding what he knew was obstruction of justice, or could even have him branded as an accessory. And the police would be by any day now to interview potential witnesses from the auction. Bruce still had no idea what he would tell them. One thing that he was sure of was that he wanted to find her.

"You look busy," Alfred said a few days after the auction, coming in with a covered tray of food. Bruce had forgotten to eat. Again. "Trying to do the police's job for them?"

"I was there," Bruce said, trying to keep his expression as blasé as possible . "It's interesting. And besides, it's not like I have anything else to do."

"So you forgot." Bruce looked up curiously. Forgotten what? "You have to go to the sponsor's event at St. Bart's, downtown." Bruce groaned and rolled his eyes. He had forgotten. "Come now, Master Bruce, your parents funded that orphanage, and you only have to go once a year."

"Two events in one week, Alfred?" Bruce complained, knowing full well how petulant and childish he sounded. He didn't have time for public appearances; he wanted to keep working on the case.

"One week of keeping up appearances and then you can be an eighteen-year-old recluse again. Now eat something and get changed." Bruce rolled his eyes, but closed the file without further protest. Besides, he'd always liked visiting the orphanage. It was a tribute to his parents, and proof that their philanthropy lived on still.

St. Bart's had been a pet project of his parents', and a smashing success when the whole city thought it was insane for the richest couple in the city to invest in orphaned by gang violence. But they'd ignored the critics and poured millions of dollars into a state of the art facility that would cater to the children's every need. Bruce had actually thought that he'd be send there when his parents had been killed, before he knew that Alfred had been instated as his legal guardian.

"This neighborhood continues to be depressing," Bruce commented as the car drove through the Narrows. Bruce knew that his parents had built here because of the gang activity, but he couldn't help but think that it put the children in danger to remain in the area where their parents had been killed. Bruce hadn't returned to the theater district since it all had happened, not even five years later.

"Well not everyone can live on White Hill," Alfred said coolly and Bruce felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Sorry." He didn't speak again until they arrive at St. Bart's, where a smiling woman was waiting for them.

"Mr. Wayne," the woman said cheerfully, her cheeks pinched so tight that it was a wonder her skin didn't crack. "My name is Mary Johnson, I'll be showing you around today."

"Pleasure," Bruce said, shaking her hand. Mary turned and ushered them into the orphanage, quickly going on about how much of an impact his parents made, how their loss affected the city, everything Bruce had heard a thousand times before. He tuned out after about a minute, preferring to see how the orphanage had changed in the last year. For one thing, no one was around. Every other time he'd ever been there it had been abuzz with activity; children running to and fro, embarrassing the administrators, and making one hell of a racket. But now it was quiet ad still.

"Where is everyone?" Bruce asked, interrupting. "Has something happened?"

"No," Ms. Johnson said quickly, too quickly. "Nothing at all."

"Here's the thing about Bruce Wayne," a familiar voice said, walking up behind them. "He really doesn't like being out of the loop."

"Detective Gordon," Bruce said, recognizing the voice immediately.

"Jim, please," the detective said, shaking Bruce's hand. "Nice to see you Bruce."

"Likewise." Bruce hadn't seen Jim Gordon much since he'd be assigned his parents' case, but the detective had practically lived at Wayne Manor during the investigation. He'd always been kind to Bruce, keeping him updated on the case and any new evidence that came up, even offered him help on Bruce's pet investigative projects. Bruce wouldn't admit that his little detective hobby was inspired by Gordon's work.

"And to answer your question, one of the boys has gone missing. He was last seen on Monday, and hasn't been heard from since." The same day as the burglary at the Blakes, Bruce thought idly. "Ms. Johnson," the detective said, turning to the administrator. "I found someone who I think might be able to help. This is Selina – " Jim turned as if to introduce someone, but there was no one there. "God dammit," he swore.

"Lost someone?" Bruce couldn't help but ask.

"Yeah, local girl. She knows the kids. I thought she could help."

"Local?" Ms. Johnson repeated with some distaste. Jim fixed her with a cool stare and Bruce suddenly could imagine him sitting across the table from a suspect, glaring them down.

"Yes, she lives in the neighborhood."

"Well I'm sure she's already looking around," Bruce jumped in, trying to relieve the tension. "And I'd like to help, in any way that I can." He wasn't exactly qualified, but Bruce knew several of the children housed here; maybe they'd be more likely to talk to him than the police.

"I would appreciate the help," Jim said. He grinned. "Welcome to the force, Detective Wayne."

* * *

><p>"Shit," Selina swore, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. She had to be cursed, or paying for the crimes of a past life. There was no way that her luck could be this bad. What were the odds that she would see Bruce Wayne twice in a week?<p>

It seemed like she was going to get away with it – with everything. Wayne hadn't seen her face and had no way of tracking her down, and it seemed like he was going to keep his mouth shut. Selina was beginning to relax.

Then the cop showed up. Not at her place, thank God, but too close for comfort.

"Selina Kyle?" a voice called as she walked into her favorite coffee shop. Selina turned, pulling the faux-fur hood of her coat up, evaluating the stranger. He was tall, taller than her, with short-cropped hair and intense eyes on a serious face.

"Who's asking?" she asked, trying to keep her voice polite. Gerard had given her messages via currier before and she didn't want work getting back to him that she was ungrateful for the work.

"Detective Jim Gordon," the man said and Selina felt her stomach swoop. She knew that name, and now that she looked closer, she recognized his face. He was older for sure, but it was him. "Don't run," he said quickly, no doubt seeing Selina about to bolt. "I'm not here to arrest you."

"What do you want?" Selina demanded through her teeth. "How do you know who I am?" And why wasn't he here to arrest her? There was no innocent reason for a GCPD cop to come looking for her. She'd had run-ins with the police before and they were sadistic bastards, the lot of them, willing to beat a confession out of anyone they could get their hands on in order to close a case quickly. Selina had come too close to being their scapegoat more than once. She wasn't getting put on the rack again.

"I'm investigating the disappearance of Tommy Vasquez, and I was given your name by some of the kids I interviewed earlier." _We need to have a talk about ratting to cops_, Selina thought before the rest of what he'd said hit her. Tommy. Tommy was gone. "He was last seen on Monday of this week." Selina's heart dropped even lower. The day of the heist. She'd seen Tommy that night, she'd given him some cash for junk food. "Look, kids go missing all the time, I know that. But I want to find this kid and you're the only lead I have. Please." Selina blinked, reevaluating. If she didn't know better, she would swear that he was sincere. But sincere and the GCPD were not two things that went hand-in-hand.

"Fine," Selina hissed under her breath, her eyes darting left and right. "Go get me a coffee, milk and sugar. I'll meet you there."

"Wha – "

"I want to find Tommy," Selina said quickly. "But I'd also like not to die, and talking with cops is the fastest way to get a bullet in the head." Gordon's eyes tightened, like the idea of casual murder upset him. Selina wasn't as bothered. This was Gotham, and people died every day. She'd grown up with that hanging over her head, and as crazy as it sounded, it was something you got used to. "Go. Milk and sugar. Don't tell anyone you're a cop." Selina brushed by him, slipping her hand into his pocket and lifting his badge, just in case. There were eyes everywhere and if he was searched, she'd rather he not have it on him. It was safer for everyone that way.

It didn't take Selina long to get the orphanage, even without a ride. Most people underestimated how quickly you could get from one place to another if you went over the rooftops.

"Took you long enough," Selina said when Gordon finally caught up to her.

"Well I took some time looking for my badge," he said, glaring at her. Selina shrugged and tossed it back to him.

"If someone saw you flashing your badge all over the place, we'd both die, and I like living. Coffee," she said, stretching out her hand. He handed over the to-go cup reluctantly, obviously regretting his decision to seek her out for help. "Please and thank you."

"Why do you care? About this, about Tommy?" Selina asked as they walked through the wrought-iron gate. "You're a cop and he's a street kid. What am I missing?"

"I was on his parents case," Gordon said after a moment's pause. "I was the one who brought him here. I…"

"Feel responsible." Selina finished when he trailed off. "Gotcha."

"Looks like we've got company," Gordon said, opening the door.

"Where is everyone? Has something happened?" a familiar voice was saying as they walked in. Selina froze as she recognized Bruce Wayne standing with a woman in a suit, no doubt one of the administrators of the orphanage. _Shit_, she swore, ducking her head and flying up the staircase. She crouched at the top, listening to Gordon talk to the prince of Gotham like they were old pals until he finally noticed that she was gone. Of course they were friends, and of course they would be together. The kid and only witness to her heist at the Blakes, and the cop would arrest her for it. Perfect.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Gordon said, finding her at the stair landing.

"Looking for kids to interview while you were chatting with a billionaire. And next time don't give out my name," Selina said coldly. "You and I are not friends, or partners, or anything, and I don't want anyone knowing I'm here. Or anyone _else_."

"Fine. Just don't disappear on me again, okay?"

"Yeah I'm not going to promise that," Selina said. "Keep me away from Wayne. I don't like bluebloods," she said when he gave her a look. "Call it a chip on my shoulder." Call it a chance that Wayne would recognize her and call her out in front of a god damn cop.

"I'll keep you separate, just go talk to kids," Gordon said, rolling his eyes. He thought she was petty, a girl from the Narrows who hated billionaire Bruce Wayne because she was jealous. Selina didn't mind; she preferred petty to guilty. Besides, she was here to find Tommy. Avoiding Wayne was just making things interesting.

It just didn't make sense. Why would Tommy run? There wasn't a better place for abandoned kids in Gotham, let alone the Narrows. He had everything he needed, food, clothing, a roof over his head. Why would anyone leave?

_You did_, a small voice reminded her. _This was the only place that was safe for you and you left_. Selina shook her head, banishing the thought to the back of her mind.

"Knock, knock," she said, tapping on a door she knew. "How's my girl?"

"Lina!" A little girl with dark hair sprang out of bed and tackled her midsection in a hug. "Lina you're back, I missed you!"

"I missed you too," Selina said, lifting the girl onto her hip. "God you've gotten big, Jeannie. You're going to be picking me up soon." Jeannie smiled and buried her face in Selina's neck. "Jeannie, I need to ask you something. Do you know where Tommy went?" Selina loved the little girl, but she also knew that Jeannie was the worst sneak to come out of the Narrows in years. She saw everything.

"I saw him go down the street," Jeannie said, eager to please. "He didn't come back after that."

"Which street?" Selina asked. "It's important, Jeannie, which street?"

"I can show you," Jeannie said, wriggling out of Selina's arms and running to the window. With practiced ease the little girl threw the window open and scrambled out, climbing easily onto the roof. Selina followed her without question. The kids had seen her come in and out through the windows so many times it was natural that they would follow suit. But it still made her nervous. "He went down there," Jeannie said, pointing down a side-street. "He said he would bring me back a Kit-Kat but he never came back. Where'd he go?"

"He'll be home soon." Selina said, not meeting her eyes and hoping the lie would stick anyway. "I'm gong to bring him back."

"Hey!" someone shouted from the ground below. "Jesus Christ Jeannie, get back inside!" Jeannie snickered and slid down the sloped roof, making Selina's heart jump.

"That's Joseph," Jeannie said happily, swinging on the window and into her room. Selina followed suit, leaping through the window and landing on her feet. "He's funny." Jeannie leaned forward as if she was sharing a secret. "He thinks I'm going to fall. I'm not going to fall." She stiffened suddenly, scuttling sideways so that she was hidden behind Selina. Selina looked up to see what had spooked her and froze.

"Hi, sorry, I didn't know anyone else was in here." Bruce Wayne said, inclining his head politely. Selina's mind raced, trying to find an exit. She couldn't leave Jeannie without an explanation and Wayne didn't know her face, but he'd heard her voice. "I'm – "

"Bruce Wayne," Selina cut him off, making her voice high and breathy. "I know who you are." She turned from him abruptly and knelt by Jeannie. "Don't tell him who I am," she whispered in the little girl's ear, trusting her not to ask any questions. "Tommy will be back soon, okay?" Jeannie nodded solemnly and Selina stood again. "Nice to meet you," she said, brushing past Wayne and escaping into the hallway.

"Wait!" Wayne said, trailing behind her, and Selina couldn't help but think back on the last time he'd chased her down a hallway. "You know my name, what's yours?"

"The whole world knows your name," Selina snapped, the effect a little less impressive in her affected, airy voice. "And no one even knows that Tommy is missing."

"So you know the kid who's gone?" Wayne pushed, not taking the hint. "Do you know all of them? Did you live here or something?" Selina stopped dead in her tracks and Wayne froze along with her, obviously realizing what he'd said. Kids who ended up at St. Bart's had parents murdered by the mob. "I'm sor – "

"My parents are dead," Selina said coldly, meeting his eyes for the first time. "Looks like we have that in common." It was cruel and a low blow, but it gave her the opportunity to get away. She'd gotten what she needed anyway. There was a bodega down the street where Tommy had been last seen, and Selina didn't want to spend any more time in the company of cops and billionaires. As soon as she was sure that Wayne wasn't following her, she slipped out a window onto the fire escape and climbed down to the street.

Damn Jim Gordon and damn Bruce Wayne. It took a Narrows kid to find one, and they were proving worse than useless. She didn't need either of them. Selina would find Tommy on her own.


	3. Chapter 3

Police work was easy. All you had to do was find someone who might know something and threaten them until they gave you what you wanted. No wonder the GCPD was full of such billyclub-happy morons.

In her case, all she had to do was promise the man at the counter that if he didn't give her a copy of the security tape from Monday night, she would have Gerard's people burn his store down. It was an empty threat, but he didn't know that.

Jeannie was right, though. Tommy had come to the bodega on Monday night with the twenty that Selina had given him. He'd bought a Kit-Kat and some other candy and then gone back out onto the street. That's when it got dicey. The bodega's camera didn't see very far out into the street, but she could see the corner of a license plate. And suddenly the likelihood that Tommy had just wandered off dropped dramatically, because Selina knew the license number.

"Gerard!" Selina shouted, barging into the bar without preamble.

"Selina, what the hell?" Papi demanded, moving to block her. "Selina you can't go back there!"

"I need to talk to him, it's important," Selina insisted, sidestepping past him and bursting into the back room. "Gerard I need to…talk to you." Selina stopped dead, her heart leaping into her throat and threatening to choke her. Gerard was in the back room all right, but he wasn't alone. Selina's mind spun into overdrive, analyzing the unexpected face in front of her, the briefcase on the table, and the files spread between them. It took her less than a second to realize who was across the table. A short, smartly-dressed man with slicked black hair and the iconic hooked nose. He was sitting, but Selina could guess that when he walked his gait would be halting and short.

"Selina," Gerard said, cool and collected as ever, but there was a layer of steel under his words. "This is unexpected."

"And you seem really, really busy so I will just come back another time," Selina said, backtracking furiously. She spun on her heel, straight into two very large men blocking the doorway. Keeping her in. Selina's already whirring mind added new variables to the equation. She was small and fast, but the two men were so big that there was no way she could get past them. She was trapped.

"Boys, please take Selina outside until I'm done with Mr. Cobblepot." Cobblepot. Oswald Cobblepot, also known as the Penguin, and a well-known Maroni man.

This was Falcone territory, which made Gerard, Selina, and every mobster in the Narrows Falcone's people. The two families had been at war for as long as Selina could remember; there was no reason for Penguin to be in Gerard's bar. In fact, it was very dangerous for him to be here at all, why would be here?

A deal. They were making a deal, that explained the paper and Papi trying to keep her out of the back – he never did that, Papi loved her and always let her in, why wouldn't he? Selina was the best.

Meaty hands clamped onto her shoulders, snapping Selina out of her pin-wheeling thoughts, leaving just one left: Gerard was going to kill her. She was his favorite, but no one was valuable enough to be kept alive if he was making a deal with the opposing team. Gerard liked her, but he wouldn't take the risk that she'd rat him out._ I'm going to die_, Selina thought with a rush of clarity and fear. _They're going to shoot me_.

"Wait," a high, wheedling voice said, and the men wheeling her out of the room stopped. "Gerard, I'm sorry, but I'm curious. Let her go." Selina was released and she staggered away from them, pushing herself into a corner of the room. There were too many eyes watching her and not enough options. "Selina, is it?"

"Answer the man," Gerard said lightly, his eyes promising murder.

"Yes," she said.

"My name's Oswald," the Penguin said, smiling at her. "But you already knew that. You knew the second you walked in, I could tell."

"Everyone knows who you are," Selina said softly. Scary, sociopathic, favored umbrellas. Selina had done her homework two years ago, when she'd stolen from him personally. Not on Gerard's orders, but he knew about it. Selina was just praying that he didn't bring it up.

"And you looked very concerned when you walked in here, Selina. Why?"

"A kid went missing," Selina said, trying to remember how to talk and breathe at the same time. "One of my kids. I know the car. I needed Gerard's help."

"One of your kids?" Oswald pushed, pressing the tips of his fingers together and leaning in.

"She's taken the St. Bart's kids under her protection," Gerard explained like Selina wasn't there. "One of the conditions that she come in as one of my reapers."

"I don't like that term," Selina said without thinking. "I'm a thief, not some harbinger of death. I steal things, and I'm good at it. Those kids are part of my price."

"A reaper with a soft spot for kids," the Penguin said, quirking an eyebrow.

"The crime war took everything from them," Selina said pointedly, forgetting her fear for a moment. The adrenaline was scraping her nerves raw and she'd never been good at keeping her mouth shut. "And they're just kids."

"So are you."

Despite he heart hammering like it wanted to break her ribs, Selina fixed Oswald with a scathing look. "You're Maroni, so I'll fill you in: Us Narrows kids don't stay kids for long." Selina expected to be marched out of the room, or shot on the spot. As soon as the words left her lips, Selina prepared to die in any number of ways.

She didn't expect him to laugh.

"Selina the reaper, defender of the children," the Penguin said, leaning back and giving her an appraising look. "I like you." He turned to Gerard, who wasn't blinking, a bad sign. "Gerard, I know this is highly irregular, especially considering how sensitive the situation is, but keep this one alive. I think she's going to come in handy." He waved his hands and the two men moved aside, opening up the doorway again. "Oh, and Selina, I'm sure Gerard will be more than happy to help you find your orphan. Won't you?"

"Of course," Gerard said silkily. "Selina, a moment?" He was standing before Selina could flee out the door. He walked with her in silence until they were out of the bar. "Selina, Selina, Selina," he said softly, pulling a gun out of his blazer and letting it hang loosely by his side. "My darling, wonderful, nosy, stupid Selina."

"Gerard," Selina started, her eyes never leaving the gun.

"Do not interrupt me," Gerard cut her off, his voice never losing its pleasant tone. "I love you like a daughter, you know I do, but you have just made some very big problems for me."

"I won't say anything," Selina promised, trying to keep her voice from shaking. Gerard had never scared her, not before this moment. He'd never looked at her like that, his head cocked, eyes narrowed and crazed, all the while his voice was polite and soft as ever.

"No, you won't," Gerard agreed, advancing on her. "Because if any word of this gets out, even a whisper, then I'm coming for you, dear. And I won't kill you, not at first. I'll do so much worse than that." Selina backed away from him until she was pushed against the brick wall of the bar. The gun that had been hanging at his side was brought up and pressed against Selina's temple. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, her whole universe was Gerard and the gun. "I'll burn down that precious orphanage of yours with all of the kids inside, and then when they're all dead, I'll put a bullet in you. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Selina breathed, not daring to move.

"Good." Something struck her hard and pain flared white hot at the base of her skull. Selina went to her knees but miraculously didn't pass out. "Now get going, love, before I change my mind." Selina stumbled to her feet and cut a staggering, uneven path back to her apartment. She flew through the door and bolted it behind her with shaking fingers.

She was alive. But somehow, with blood dripping down her neck and her head pounding from the butt of Gerard's gun, it didn't seem like very much. The Penguin had spared her, but Selina had no idea how long that protection would last. She'd be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life, waiting for the day that they decided that she was too dangerous to have around. And they would, eventually, realize that having a witness put them in too much danger. She was safe for now, but not forever. Now, she had a deadline, an expiration date. Selina could practically feel it ticking down the heartbeats she had left.

All at once, Selina's legs gave out and she slid down the wall in a heap. She was so _stupid_. She'd gone into the bar looking for help and had left with a gun to her head. Worst of all, she'd just let it happen. She was fast and tough - she'd had to be to survive on her own – but Selina had just let Gerard back her into a corner. She could've taken the gun, she could've told him that she wouldn't be threatened.

_Then you'd be dead for sure_. Penguin or no Penguin, if she'd fought back, Gerard would have put a bullet in her and said that she had attacked him. Selina buried her head in her arms, choking back a sob. She couldn't remember being that scared, ever. What they were doing, the deal between two lieutenants of opposing crime families…it was suicide. There were _rules_, rules you didn't break if you wanted to keep breathing. Selina had lived under Falcone for as long as she could remember, and the war had been going on for half of her life. But if you stayed well under the radar, you stayed alive. Selina had made herself useful to Gerard in return for protection, but all of that had just gone to straight to shit.

Maybe now she had to be her own protection.

* * *

><p>A few days went by without incident. Selina hadn't left her apartment much, only for groceries, and an easy job that had taken barely half an hour. Sudden movements didn't send her running anymore, and shadows dancing across the floor didn't make her grab for her knife – the knife that never left her person, not anymore. Then came the press conference. A tall boy with dark hair and an aristocratic face stood at a podium, speaking to a small army of reporters. Selina rolled her eyes. Bruce Wayne was on TV. It seemed that he was everywhere lately.<p>

"I'm calling this press conference today to raise awareness. My parents built St. Bart's orphanage for children whose parents had been taken from them by gang violence. Since it opened, over one hundred children have been housed there."

"Everyone knows that, genius," Selina grumbled at the TV, starting to pick up the pillows she'd displaced in her sleep.

"But I'm not here to talk about the crime families, I'll leave that to the police." Wayne flashed a charming smile and the press all laughed with him. "What I am here to talk about is a boy named Tommy Vasquez." At the name Selina stopped short. Oh no. "He's eleven, and disappeared from St. Bart's on Monday night."

"Stop," Selina whispered, staring at the screen. "Stop talking."

"He's just a kid," Wayne continued. "A kid that lost everything to the violence in this city. It's the least we can do to find him and bring him home. I will be personally offering a reward for his safekeeping, and his photo and the number to call if he's seen will be distributed." Wayne cleared his throat, hesitating before looking straight into the camera. "Someone told me recently that not everyone lives on White Hill. I was born into wealth and its time that I did something with it, just like my parents. Which is why, in addition to the reward, I will be throwing a charity gala at Wayne Mansion to raise funds for another orphanage like St. Bart's in the city. Thank you." Wayne stepped off of the podium and was ushered away by a gray-haired man in a trench coat, leaving Selina staring blankly as the picture cut to a photo of Tommy.

"You idiot," Selina breathed, the severity of what he'd done rushing at her in full force. "You idiot!" She surged forward, smashing her fist through the screen. If Gerard saw this…._when _Gerard saw this, he'd know that Selina and Wayne had both been at St. Bart's, he'd think that she told him something. And he'd thrown a fucking press conference to tell the whole world that he, the crown prince of Gotham, was looking for one of Selina's kids. "You killed me."

It only took them an hour to come for her. "Selina!" It wasn't a voice she knew, but that didn't matter. "Come out or we'll break down the door!"

"Jesus, don't be so dramatic." Selina said as she opened the door, the picture of nonchalance despite the blood dripping from her knuckles. "What do you want?"

"You are in big trouble." She didn't know him. He wasn't one of Gerard's, as far as she knew, but that didn't mean much. Finding hired muscle was easy these days. And he wasn't alone. There were four of them, all crowded on her doorstep.

"Yeah, I'm thinking about getting it tattooed on my forehead," Selina shot back. This was easy, this was her territory. Mouthing off to goons who were bigger and stronger than her. Goons didn't scare her like Gerard and Oswald Cobblepot. They didn't have any real power, they had big fists they barely knew how to use. Fists didn't scare her.

"You are coming with us."

"No." Selina said. "Nice try though." The guy cracked his knuckles and advanced towards her. Selina danced away from him, ducking away from his fist when he swung at her. He was slow, laughably slow, and it didn't take much to avoid him. Falling to one knee, Selina pulled out the blade she'd hidden in her sleeve and jammed it into the man's leg. He howled as blood gushed from the wound, hitting the ground hard. "God dammit, you're messing up my floors," Selina sighed, twirling the knife in her fingers. She was good with knives, always had been. The easiest way to get into bags was by slashing them.

"You…bitch!" the man spat at her. Selina rolled her eyes.

"I didn't hit your femoral, you're not going to bleed out." Selina said before turning her attention to the rest of the goons, all of who were staring at her. "Who's next?"

"I don't think that will be necessary." Selina froze, all bravado vanishing as Oswald Cobblepot appeared. The remaining men jumped out of the way to let him pass. It seemed Selina wasn't the only one afraid of him. "May I come in?"

"Looks like you're already in," Selina said, steeling her nerves and willing her voice to stay steady. She was strong. She wouldn't let herself be scared. "Why stand on ceremony?"

Oswald smiled, waddling through the doorway. He must have really mangled his leg once upon a time. He slowly made his way to where his man was on the ground, still clutching his leg and his smiled broadened. "I knew I liked you, Selina, right from the start. And this is lovely work. You didn't mention that you were a blade girl."

"You didn't ask."

"But this business with Bruce Wayne…" Oswald said like she hadn't spoken. "You should've told us."

"And Gerard would've shot me."

"He wants to shoot you now." Selina felt her heart pick up. Then why hadn't he done it yet? "But I still think you could be of use to us, especially in light of your delightful affinity for pointy objects. I also think you're too smart to talk to someone like Wayne. Thing is, we don't know if we can trust you." Well if that wasn't a two-way street, Selina didn't know what was. "So we, Gerard and I, are going to offer you a deal. Bruce Wayne needs to know that he can't speak out against the crime families. He may be Gotham's golden boy, but business is business."

"I'm not an assassin," Selina said. "If you want to kill him, send someone else." She was toeing a very dangerous line, but Oswald only smiled wider.

"Oh no no no, Selina, that's not what I want at all. Killing him would start a riot. Everyone loves the Waynes, and now that young Bruce has started this campaign to find poor orphan Tommy, there would be outcry." The Penguin shook his head. "No, killing him would be too messy."

"Then what?" Selina pushed when he paused, presumably waiting for her to ask.

"Well, people do get so attached to their personal belongings, don't they? Especially when they're all they have left of their dearly departed mother and father." Selina's heart sank further. "Let's remind young Bruce how it feels to lose his parents, hm? Maybe when he has nothing left of them, he will learn his place in this city."

"Fine." Selina said, knowing full well that she had no choice. The Penguin nodded, looking pleased, and stood, making for the door.

"And Selina?" he said, pausing at the exit. "If you fail, I will let Gerard have you." He chuckled like it was some kind of joke. "He's fond of knives, like you. And that man, for all of his pretense of civility, is an artist when it comes to taking people apart."


	4. Chapter 4

There wasn't a lot of time to prepare. Wayne's gala was only a few days away, and Selina needed to memorize every inch of the floor plan. She had to know every way in and out of the mansion. She had to know where the press would be, and more importantly, where they wouldn't.

She had to find a dress. Sneaking in wasn't an option this time. Wayne's security was much tighter than Blake's had been, and Selina never did two jobs the same way. Even using a party as her in was dangerous. Especially since it was Wayne's party, and now he had a face to match her voice. For the hundredth time since the Penguin had invaded her apartment, Selina wondered if they were setting her up to fail. It sure as hell felt like it.

Most importantly, she needed an invitation. Without that, all of her planning went to waste. Thankfully, she had a guy.

"No."

"Manny, come on," Selina said, sticking her foot in the door before he could close it on her. The tall, dark-haired man at the door only scowled.

"Alleycat, I love you, but your kind of crazy isn't something I need in my life right now."

"My kind of crazy is exactly what you need in your life right now, especially when you owe my kind of crazy a favor." Selina said smoothly, ignoring the childhood nickname that she'd spent years trying to grow out of.

"Manny who's at the door – Selina!" Another man came to the door, throwing his arm around Manny's shoulders.

"Speaking of said favor," Selina said, grinning. "Hey Ollie. I need your help, both of yours."

"Come in, come in," Oliver said, ushering her inside. "God, Manny, where are your manners? What can we do for you, Sel?"

"The Wayne gala," Selina said once they'd shut the door behind her. "I need an invitation, both electronic and print. Can you do it?"

"You're insane," Manny said, crossing his arms over his chest. He was a hacker, one of the best Selina knew, and Oliver was something of a savant when it came to forgery.

"Very likely. Can you do it?"

"Of course we can," Oliver said. "Between the two of us, it's a wonder that we don't attend every major party in the city. Besides, we owe you. Right, Manuel?" Oliver said sweetly, giving his boyfriend a significant look. Manny looked murderous, and Selina knew that she'd won. She'd known Manny for years, and was the once who had introduced him to Oliver. He'd been so angry at first, insisting that he wasn't interested. Selina smiled at the memory. Manny's sexual preference was the worst kept secret in the Narrows, not that anyone cared. With a crime war going on and the poverty line rising every year, people had their own problems. It had taken a lot of digging her heels in and a little time, but Manny had fallen hard for Oliver. Two years later they were still together, and that's what they owed her. Selina had never pushed it and she had never planned to, but she was desperate.

"Fine," Manny grumbled finally. "I'll get you on the goddamn guest list."

"And no one will ever know that your invitation didn't come in the mail," Oliver said happily. "Come on, babe, let's get to work."

"You two are lifesavers, thank you," Selina said, kissing Oliver on the cheek. They didn't know how literal she was being, either of them. "Ollie, I have one more favor to ask. I need a dress."

"You are a stereotype," Manny said, rolling his eyes. "You ask the gay guy for fashion advice?"

"I have something perfect," Oliver said, cutting him off.

"I hate both of you," Manny said, throwing his hands up. "_Dios mio_."

"Ignore him, he's just cranky," Oliver promised. "Come on, I'll hook you up."

Everything was falling into place. The dress that Oliver gave her was perfect, classy enough to fit in at a blueblood party, and just short enough that she could flirt her way out of a corner. Manny and Oliver had delivered on all counts, so getting in wasn't going to be a problem. And most importantly, Selina had out which catering company was working the gala and stashed a duffel bag in one of their trucks. She was meant to be stealing Wayne's last connections to his parents, and they wouldn't be small enough to fit into her tasteful clutch.

She was ready. She was prepared for this job and she had a hundred and one contingency plans that covered every possible outcome. Including running into Bruce Wayne. The first time she was in all-black and a hoodie; at the orphanage, Selina had been wearing ratty jeans and an old jacket with fake fur trim and goggles that she never wore but somehow couldn't get rid of perched on her head. Now, as she looked in the mirror, inspecting the outfit one final time, it occurred to her that she didn't even recognize herself.

She'd actually showered, for one thing. Her dirty-blonde hair, usually a disheveled mess of curls, had been straightened and brushed until it hung to her shoulders in a shiny curtain. The dress fit perfectly, giving her curves she'd never had before, and she had stolen some shiny heels to match. Oliver had insisted on doing her makeup, and Selina's whole face was covered in powder that had magically evened out her already-fair skin and somehow made her pores disappear. Her eyelids were bronze and shimmering, turning her eyes even brighter green, and there was some kind of shiny goop on her lips. Even if Wayne did see her – and she would do her best to avoid him – there was no way he'd associate her with the skinny street rat from the orphanage. The only details out of place were her still-healing knuckles, but Selina doubted that anyone would notice.

"Name?" the burly man at the door grunted at her, giving her a passing, cursory glance. Selina flashed him a winning smile.

"Catalina Black," Selina said, trying not to choke on the irony. Black cat, really? Selina had to appreciate Manny's sense of revenge. The guard nodded her in and ushered Selina inside, ducking her head to shield her face from the blinding flashes of the paparazzi's cameras. Breaking into Wayne Mansion was all well and good, but getting caught on camera was unacceptable. Thankfully, none of the press were allowed inside, which made Selina's life considerably easier. She didn't need to be dodging cameras as well as baby bluebloods.

Selina let herself be swept along with the crowd through the main entryway, marveling with the other guests at the interior of the mansion. She'd seen many of the other manors on White Hill on TV, but never the Wayne's. The richest couple in Gotham had been private when they were alive, and when they'd died, Bruce Wayne had practically become a shut-in. But damn, did they know how to decorate. Selina descended a curving spiral staircase into the ballroom, which was all marble floors and crystal chandeliers. Selina had stolen some impressive sums of money and had ripped off more jewelry stores that she could remember, but she'd never seen this kind of wealth. The ballroom on its own could fit her tiny apartment a dozen times, and just one jewel from the chandelier could pay her rent for a year. Selina couldn't help but scowl when she saw that buffet that was laid out over ten tables. There were people dying – children starving – in the Narrows, and the bluebloods could afford all of this. Unbelievable.

"Hey there beautiful," a slimy voice said at her shoulder. Selina turned to see a boy in a perfectly-tailored suit walk up to her, smirking. "You know, someone as pretty as you should smile more," he said with what he obviously thought was a charming smile. "Lucky for you, I noticed you anyway."

"Lucky for me," Selina repeated blandly.

"Rodger Tate," he said, not getting the hint. Did they not teach sarcasm at Gotham Prep? "What's your name beautiful?" Selina stiffened, feeling his arm snake around her waist.

"Catalina," she said, ignoring every one of her instincts that shouted at her to force him away. Selina fixed a vapid smile to her face, allowing Rodger to lead her onto the dance floor. She needed to get to the East Wing of the mansion anyway, and marching across the ballroom floor would draw attention. So she let the baby blueblood hold her hand and grab her waist and guide her around the enormous room.

"Rodger!" Selina's smile died on her lips as Bruce Wayne walked up to them. Selina's heart jumped and she ducked her head, trying to avoid eye contact.

"Wayne," Rodger said, shaking his hand. "Thanks for the invite, man." They lapsed into remising about prep school and Selina took the opportunity to shake Rodger off and disappear back into the crowd. She wove between the gala's patrons, trying to regulate her breathing. That had been way too close. She couldn't really blame him considering that it was his party, but it was starting to feel like he was stalking her. It was time to get moving, anyway. Selina didn't have all night.

She danced her way to the other side of them room and slipped away down a side hallway. She didn't go straight to the East Wing, instead making her way to the kitchen, where her duffel and a change of clothes were waiting for her. As much as she liked her little black dress, it wasn't conducive to a major heist.

"You owe me Sel," one of the workers said, handing over the bag.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Selina said. She changed quickly, replacing the dress with black jeans and, t-shirt, and jacket, along with comfortable sneakers. She a blade in one of her sleeves – an unnecessary precaution she was sure, but they made her feel better. Finally, she pulled on a pair of gloves, slung the bag over her shoulder and picked her way through the dark, unoccupied halls. A few of the hallways were blocked off by locked grates, but she made short work of them. Selina had never come across a lock she couldn't pick.

After that, it was easy. There were a few more doors to break into, but the Penguin had given Selina a list of the things she needed to steal. He didn't say how he'd gotten it, or how he knew what artifacts were the deceased Waynes', and she didn't ask. It was easier that way. There wasn't much to get. It was almost a little sad, how little of the original Waynes there was left in the house. Absently, Selina wondered where it had all gone. Had Bruce thrown away his parents' things when they died? Or had they just not been the kind of people to keep personal items? That didn't seem likely. Bluebloods loved their toys, the lot of them, even philanthropists like Thomas and Martha Wayne. Even so, Selina went through each room on the just like a good little thief and picked up every last thread that connected the prince of Gotham to his parents. It was easy.

It was wrong. Selina shook her head, reaching into a glass case full of priceless items and plucking out the leather-bound book that was hidden within it. She didn't care about right and wrong, she cared about not dying. Like Oswald had said, Gerard wanted to kill her, and Selina had seen firsthand what he could do to people. They didn't even look like humans by the time he was done with them. She was living on a probationary basis, and if she could prove that she was useful, they wouldn't kill her. Right and wrong didn't matter. Right and wrong couldn't matter, not if she wanted to keep breathing.

"You look different." Selina froze in the last room, her hand inches away from the last item: An antique stethoscope. Thomas Wayne came from a long line of doctors, helping to build the family fortune before Thomas himself had gone into business and become one of the richest men to walk the earth. "I almost didn't recognize you before, when you were with Rodger."

"No offense buddy," Selina said cavalierly, turning to face him, "but you are a real pain in my ass."

"Likewise," Wayne said, sounding almost amused. He was smiling, while she was standing in his home with a bag full of his stolen stuff. "And you are nearly impossible to get ahold of."

"Sorry, I don't date bluebloods," Selina said. Wayne laughed again. He was _laughing _at her. She was starting to think that his parents' death had left him with more than a touch of PTSD. More like complete and total psychosis. "If you'll excuse me." She moved to push past him and Wayne threw out an arm, barring her way. "Move," she ordered.

"No. I have questions."

"I don't want to hurt you," Selina said, her voice low and dangerous. Wayne barked a short, derisive laugh.

"I doubt you could." Selina bristled at the challenge, slipping her knife out of her sleeve and holding it at the ready. She wanted to laugh out loud when Wayne reached for a fencing saber, an honest-to-God sword. She'd been expecting a gun, or for him to call security at the very least, but it seemed like Wayne wanted the fight.

Almost as much as Selina did. She circled around the office and Wayne matched her step for step, sweeping his saber in long, low arcs. Selina could see that it wasn't dull like normal practice swords, but would cut through her as easily as any knife. She waited, a small smile playing on her lips, until Wayne rushed forward, slashing at her. Selina could've cheered. Rule one of any fight: Never make the first move. It allowed your opponent to learn too much about your fighting style. Selina ducked away from the blade, blood thrumming in her veins. She was fast and smart, but that didn't help the fact that she'd brought a knife to a swordfight. His reach was far longer than hers and she couldn't get inside of his guard, no matter how quick she was.

Besides, Selina was improvising. She'd never even _seen_ anyone use a sword before – there was a mercenary a few years back that had been known for running people through with katanas, but he'd been locked up. She danced around the office, avoiding every advance, trying to get close.

"So," Selina said conversationally, hopping lightly onto the desk to avoid getting skewered. "If you win – and you won't – what do you get out of it?"

"I told you – " Wayne said, slashing at her feet. Selina danced out of the way, stepping over the saber like it was a jump rope " – I have questions."

"God you're boring," Selina sighed, jumping over the sword again, but landing on it this time. It was more of an accident than anything, but Wayne was thrown off-balance, caught in a lunge. He yanked the blade out from under her and Selina leaped at him, seeing the opening. Wayne stumbled backwards, bringing the saber up faster than Selina anticipated. She froze, suddenly unable to move unless she wanted to get her throat slashed. Wayne blinked, looking as surprised as Selina felt.

"Do it," she whispered, feeling the blade prick her throat. "Kill me."

"I'm not going to kill you," Wayne said uncertainly.

"Then let me go," Selina tried.

"I can't do that either."

Selina smiled bitterly, feeling her heart sink in her chest. "I'm dead either way, billionaire." If he didn't let her go he'd call security, and then the mansion would be on high alert. People would hear about it. People like Gerard and the Penguin, and then she wouldn't last the week.

"Who _are_ you?" Wayne demanded, lowering the saber just a fraction. "Who's trying to kill you?"

"You." Selina snapped. "You, you stupid, idiotic, pretentious rich boy, you are _killing me_."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You saw me! And because you saw me, because you are a witness, they are going to kill me." Selina took a long, shuddering breath. "If you call security, they are going to kill me."

"Who?" Wayne asked.

"They're going to kill me," Selina said, clenching her free hand and feeling nails digging into her skin. "They are going to kill me, and I want you to know that when they do, it is _your fault_." Wayne forwent the saber entirely and stepped towards her, eyes shining with something that looked like concern. He tried to say something but Selina struck, smashing the handle of her knife into the base of Wayne's skull. He crumpled and Selina barely caught him before he fell to the floor. "Sorry," she said, laying him down. "I'm not dying on your account." Selina grabbed the stethoscope and locked the door behind her. Someone would notice that Wayne was missing, but not for a while, not with so many people downstairs.

Selina retraced her steps back to the kitchen and snuck into the garage. There was a van waiting for her with the keys in the ignition, something she'd arranged beforehand. After clearing the Hill, Selina wiped all of her prints and abandoned the van. She caught a bus back to the Narrows, going over the heist again and again in her head. She'd been telling the truth. She had told Wayne the truth. He was killing her, and if she didn't do the job, Gerard would kill her.

Selina wanted to keep living. Which reminded her.

"Manny I need one more favor, and this one I'll pay for." Selina said without preamble.

"_Jesús Cristo_, Alleycat." Manny growled on the other end of the phone.

"I'm sorry, I really am. Please."

"Fine. What do you need?"

"Wayne's security feeds. I want them gone."

"Selina…"

"I know you can do it, Manny, so just do it." Selina hung up, not waiting to hear his response. It was an extra precaution, but Selina knew it was necessary. She'd spoken to him, to Wayne. She'd spoken to him as herself. And all he'd wanted was to know why she had stopped to help him. _I'll let you know if I ever figure that out myself, billionaire_, Selina thought bitterly. That was what had started this whole mess.

Well now, hopefully, she could finish it.

"Oh, Selina, you have done well by us," Gerard purred when she showed up at the bar, back to his polite, complimentary persona. "This is everything we asked for. I assume there were no problems?"

"Never are," Selina lied easily.

"I told you she would be useful," Oswald said, gloating and smug. "You may go, Selina."

"He's going to call the cops," Selina said, stupidly not doing what she was told. What else was new? "Wayne. Like you said, people get very attached to their stuff."

"Don't you worry about that, dear girl," Gerard said. "We have friends inside the force." So does he, Selina wanted to say, but she knew better than to push it. "Like Oswald said, you may go. We know where to find you." Selina inclined her head and left, feeling panic and dread swirling in her stomach. They knew where to find her. She wasn't done. They were going to keep her as their little pet reaper and there was nothing she could do about it.

She wanted to scream. She'd done what they'd asked, and some small, hopeful part of her had thought that they would set her free once the job was done. Selina wanted to kick herself for even entertaining the notion. Of course they wouldn't let her go; she was too dangerous, she knew too much. And now, the rest of her life would be doing jobs for them, always looking over her shoulder, until the day they decided that she was too dangerous to keep around. She was theirs now. Selina dug her nails into her palm, feeling tears welling in her eyes. She couldn't show weakness, not here. Her people could sense it from miles away.

But she couldn't stop them as soon as she rushed through the door of her no-longer safe apartment and locked the door behind her. Tears spilled over, wetting her cheeks and Selina couldn't help but think that it was all for nothing. She'd done the job in hopes of being free, she'd stolen every last connection Wayne had with her parents, for no reason. It was over.

She was trapped.

* * *

><p>Thank you to all who have reviewed, favorited, and followed! You guys are amazing<p>

Happy Thanksgiving!


	5. Chapter 5

They didn't come for her. For weeks, no one came looking. Selina kept an ear to the ground, listening to see if Wayne had alerted the police, but yet again, he was quiet. It seemed like Gerard and the Penguin were appeased and that they were going to leave her well alone. For now, at least.

Selina spent the better part of the week after her heist hiding in her apartment, positive that there would be men in black masks, or worse wearing badges, waiting for her outside. But when it was clear that they weren't coming for her, at least not until the weekend was over, Selina ventured into the outside world. There weren't many places that she could go, not with Gerard's network of contacts in the Narrows, and she couldn't afford for him to find her hiding place.

She snuck over rooftops as well as zigzagging down alleyways, just in case someone was tailing her. When Selina was confident that no one was following her, she finally made her way to a small building on the river. She hadn't been there in weeks – too much had gone on for her to be able to spare the time. It was a workshop. Her workshop, to be specific. Nothing official, just somewhere that Selina could take things apart and put them back together. She liked fixing things, she had for as long as she could remember. Everything had a place, everything had a purpose, everything made sense. And most importantly, no one was trying to kill her.

It wasn't much: Small and cluttered, and there was a beat-up old car in the very middle with its hood popped open. The windows were blacked out and there was a fine layer of dust over everything, not to mention motor oil and other grime everywhere. With engine parts and other scraps of metal strewn over worktables and the floor, the whole building was a mess. Exactly the opposite of her apartment back in the Narrows, where everything was neat and orderly, and everything had its place.

Selina loved every inch of it.

Besides, she was sentimental. Before she broke into buildings, Selina broke into cars. She had a knack for disabling the alarms and was soon sought after by everyone and anyone who made a living by stealing or dismantling vehicles. She'd steal them; they'd take them apart. It wasn't a bad gig, and Selina had learned a lot in the process. Not to mention being able to hot-wire a car wasn't a bad skill to have. She still had contacts in chop shops and junkyards across the city.

Her newest project was an old junker. An ancient Chevy Thunderbird that had been discarded and left to rust. Selina had rescued it, and had been trying to fix it back up on and off for months. She didn't have anywhere to go when it was fixed, she didn't even have a license, but having something to work on was the important thing. Selina didn't do well with boredom. She'd spent her whole life moving, working, fighting. Moments of stillness and quiet were like poison. They slowed her down, and that could get her killed.

So when she didn't have work, she had projects. Take an engine apart. Put it back together and make it better and faster than before. Create something new out of spare parts. Restore a car. Anything to stay busy.

Selina was under the old Chevy, laying on her back with a flashlight in her mouth and a wrench in her hand when she heard movement outside. Someone rattled on the door and Selina swung out from under the Thunderbird, jumping to her feet and holding the wrench like it was one of her knives. The door shook again and Selina could hear the lock pop open. _Note to self: Get better locks_. Holding the wrench at the ready, Selina pressed her back against the against the wall to the right of the door and waited. The door opened slowly and Selina exploded into motion before stopping dead when she saw who it was who'd broken in.

"Really?" the intruder said, putting her hands on her hips. "You were going to bludgeon me to death with a wrench? Sloppy, Sel."

"Ivy," Selina said, her mind working to catch up to her racing heart. The girl in her doorway grinned through a wild tangle of red hair and Selina dropped the wrench, pulling her into a crushing hug. "Holy hell, Ivy, what are you doing out?" Selina asked when they broke apart, studying her at arms length. Ivy was the only one who knew that Selina had this place, but she'd been locked up for two years. Selina hadn't even considered that she would be the one at the door.

"Good behavior. I'm young, I'm reformed." Ivy said, looking pleased with herself. Selina snorted.

"You have never behaved a day in your life."

"True, but the warden doesn't need to know that," Ivy said with a delicate shrug. She let herself into the workshop and perched on an unoccupied stool. "So," she said without preamble, as if she hadn't just appeared after being in jail for two years, "updates since you last saw me: Juvie was fun, made some friends. A few enemies."

"Hence being sent to Blackgate," Selina cut in wryly. Ivy had been dragged to a juvenile detention center for a year, and then finally to Blackgate at eighteen. One of the youngest ever female residents.

"He had it coming."

"You put bleach in the kid's ginger ale!"

"He had it coming," Ivy said, oddly serious for a moment before her eyes sparked with mischief again. "Prison is boring. Everyone is tedious, and the greenhouse!" she said, sounding bereaved. "The greenhouse was deplorable, Sel. Everything was dead and they wouldn't give me anything to plant. It was a nightmare." Selina laughed and Ivy pouted at her. "I'm not kidding." Selina knew she wasn't, that was what was so funny. Ivy, true to her name, had always had a weird thing with plants. "You mock my pain," Ivy complained and Selina rolled her eyes at the dramatics.

"You spent almost a year in prison and your top complaint is the greenhouse." Selina said, picking her wrench up and scooting back under the Chevy. "Good to see that some things never change."

"I'm a cartoon character, I know it," Ivy said, her voice sounding muffled from the several tons of car on top of Selina. "So how have you been? Please tell me you've been having more fun than I have."

"Same old, same old." Selina said, swearing as she yanked too hard on a bolt and engine parts rained down on her. "Shit, ow."

"Still breaking things, I see," Selina could practically hear the smirk in her voice. "Do you still have connections with Gerard and his guys?" Selina paused for a little too long, seeing the gun at her head, the Penguin's promise that Gerard would rend her to pieces if she wasn't a good pet.

"Yeah," she said finally. "And anyone else who can afford me. I'm not picky." A payday was a payday, but Selina wasn't sure how much work she'd be doing outside of the Falcone crime family anymore. Gerard was always talking about how he wanted her all for himself. Or was she Maroni now that the Penguin owned a piece of her soul? She didn't know. Didn't really want to know. "Hand me the other flashlight, will you?" Selina said, realizing that she'd been quiet for too long. They'd been apart for over two years, but Ivy had always been able to read her. Not that Selina was talkative anyway, or ever had been. Ivy didn't comment on her silence, just handed Selina the flashlight, chatting absently about her escapades in prison. Selina listened as she worked, laughing at her friend's antics and asking questions to keep the stories coming, privately glad that Ivy wasn't asking any questions. There was so much going on: Gerard and the Penguin, their deal, Bruce Wayne showing up in every aspect of her life… Selina was still trying to sort it all out herself. It wasn't fair, or safe, to dump all of that on Ivy. She'd just been set free, after all. She should be allowed to enjoy it.

"Okay," Ivy said after telling Selina about how she'd sort-of started a prison riot. Selina protested as she was pulled out from under her Thunderbird. "What is going on with you?" Selina quietly took back her thanks that Ivy wasn't pressing. Obviously her time behind bars had done nothing to temper her curiosity.

"What?" Selina said, faking ignorance. She sat up, starting to put away her tools.

"Don't pull that shit with me," Ivy said, seeing through her immediately. "What happened? Something big, or you wouldn't be so damn squirrely."

"Nothing," Selina said. Lie. She was so far out of her depth that she couldn't even see the surface anymore, let alone know how to navigate the new waters. "V, come on, would I lie to you?" The conviction on Ivy's face wavered and Selina felt a pang of guilt in her chest. They didn't lie to one-another, never had. It was a rule that neither had broken since they teamed up years ago. "I'm being a shit host," Selina said, closing her toolbox and wiping oil into her jeans. "Let's go do something fun." Finally, Ivy nodded and Selina felt the guilt expand. But she couldn't tell the truth, because if Selina went down, Ivy would be dragged down with her. Just like when they were kids. It had taken a while – it wasn't easy for two kids used to taking care of themselves to admit that they needed someone – but they eventually became a unit, scouting and stealing together. There was no lock that Selina couldn't pick, no door that she couldn't crack open. For her part, Ivy was a chemical genius. Poisons, toxins, she could make them all, and sold them to the highest bidder. They were a team, and together, they'd thrived, when every odd said that they should have died within weeks of living on the streets.

"It's you and me, Sel, just like always." Ivy said. Selina didn't answer, still gathering up her tools. "Hey. Say it." Ivy insisted, placing her hand on Selina's shoulder.

"You and me," Selina said finally. The words burned like acid.

* * *

><p>Wow, two chapters in two days. I must really love you guys!<p>

Remember, a fic without reviews is like milk without cookies.

Happy thanksgiving for real this time


	6. Chapter 6

Selina was glad that Ivy was home. Ivy was pushy, a pain in the ass, and certifiably insane, and Selina had missed her. They watched each-other's backs and Selina sorely needed someone on her side. But even so, she couldn't help but worry that Ivy being home made them both more vulnerable. Selina was fighting for her life, and she didn't need to give Gerard any more weapons to use against her. He was already gunning for the St. Bart's kids, she didn't want Ivy to get stuck in the crosshairs as well.

Needless to say, Selina was nervous. Fear was a powerful motivator, and Selina had no romantic notions about her own bravery. She'd grown up under a bridge after running away from the orphanage. She'd given up a life of comfort to scraping by on a daily basis and going hungry more often than not. Selina had seen more deaths than she could count, and when it came down to it, she would always choose to save her own skin. She wasn't brave. But she was alive, and fully intended to stay that way.

"Sel," Ivy griped over the phone, nearly a week after she'd been released. "This place is a hellhole. You have to rescue me. They won't let me near any chemicals, not even cleaning supplies." Selina rolled her eyes, despite nearly jumping out of her skin when the phone had rang. It was a burner, one that Selina hadn't used since Ivy had been arrested and that only she had the number to. Selina was surprised that Ivy remembered the number. Then again, Ivy had the best memory of anyone Selina knew. She'd had already told her about Tommy's disappearance – leaving out the bits that involved Gerard and the Penguin – and Ivy promised to get right on it. If anyone could find a lost kid, Ivy could.

"You're a convicted poisoner," Selina said reasonably. "They have to take that into account."

"I'm not going to poison anyone here," Ivy protested. "Well, there is one girl who's really starting to get on my nerves."

"It's been a week." Selina deadpanned. "You're stuck there for a year. Please don't get sent to jail again."

"I know, I know, play nice with the kiddies," Ivy sighed. "It's just so _boring_."

"Oh quit griping," Selina said, grinning. She could practically see Ivy melodramatically throw her arm over her forehead at the horror of it all. Selina's smile died just as quickly, hearing a soft knock on the door. "Hold on," she whispered into the phone, placing one hand on the knife stashed in the waistband of her jeans. Putting an eye to the peephole, Selina let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Jeannie," Selina said, her voice heavy with relief. The little girl was on her doorstep, sucking on a lollypop and smiling like it was Christmas. "You are not supposed to be here."

"But I missed you," Jeannie protested. "And your friend wanted to see you. He gave me this lolly." Jeannie waved her prize, smiling happily.

"My friend?" Selina asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Selina," an unfortunately familiar and entirely unwelcome voice said, stepping into her field of view. He smiled at her, obviously for Jeannie's benefit. "Good to see you again."

"V," Selina said into the phone, her mind whirring out of control. "I have to call you back."

"You okay?" Ivy asked, suddenly urgent. Selina didn't answer, just hung up, still trying to process. Bruce Wayne. Here. At her door. In the Narrows.

Shit.

"Thank you for showing me how to get here," Wayne said, kneeling at Jeannie's side. Selina wanted to scream at Jeannie to run away. Instead she just stood in her doorway, watching as the billionaire slipped Jeannie a fifty-dollar bill. He'd traded in his suit for jeans in a hoodie since the gala, but no one would think that he belonged here.

"Bye Lina!" Jeannie said happily, waving and clutching the bill in her little fist. She took off running, off to spend her prize on candy no doubt. Selina watched her go, suddenly thinking of Tommy. The last time she'd seen him, he had been running to spend the money she'd given him. Half of her wanted to run after the little girl and make sure that she got home okay, but Selina had a much bigger problem to deal with.

"Sweet kid," Wayne said idly, looking past her into the apartment. "Nice place. I figured it would be bigger considering the whole 'career criminal' thing. Then again, does Falcone get a cut? Aren't you in his territory?" At Falcone's name, the Selina snapped back to reality.

"Shut up," she snarled. "And get out." He couldn't be here. Gerard had eyes all over the Narrows and the billionaire had undoubtedly already tripped alarms. He had to go.

Selina was halfway through slamming the door in his face when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Three long rings, three short, and then three long again. SOS. Gerard had his spies and Selina had hers – mostly old contacts from her years under the overpass – and one of then had just tipped her off. He was coming.

Shit.

"Get in," Selina said, grabbing his sleeve and dragging Wayne inside. He swore and ripped his arm out of her grasp, glaring.

"Hey, watch it," he said warily, the patronizing demeanor vanishing. Selina didn't respond, too busy trying to think her way out. Gerard was coming and Wayne was _in her apartment_. She cast about for a hiding place but her home was small and not well equipped for high-stakes hide-and-seek. Finally, Selina marched to her hall closet and threw the door open.

"Get in."

"You're insane," Wayne objected immediately, his dark eyes scanning her face. Selina didn't disagree, but now wasn't the time to argue her sanity.

"He's coming, and if he sees you here, we're both going to die." Selina said urgently, feeling like she was trying to convince a brick wall. "If you hear gunfire, don't come out. Wait thirty minutes and then go to the police." Selina didn't know if Gerard was coming to kill her but if he was she was going to make damn sure that the police knew who did her in.

"Is everything so life and death with you?" Wayne asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Life and death things are."

"Selina," a sing-songy voice floated through the door. Selina's head snapped towards the voice, feeling ice crawl through her veins even as her heart sped. Gerard.

"God dammit," Selina swore, turning back to Wayne. "Look, billionaire, I don't want to die and he will kill us if he sees you here."

"Who?" Selina wanted to scream at him.

"Someone who scares me a hell of a lot more than you do so _get in the goddamn closet_." Wayne stared at her for three terrifying seconds longer before he let her push him inside and lock the door behind him.

"Gerard," Selina said warmly, opening the door and forcing her lips up into a smile. She didn't have enough time to calm her racing heart, but she managed to keep her face from betraying her panic. "You know, this is my home, and if you'd like to discuss business, I'd prefer it be at the bar."

"A little touchy, are we?" Gerard said innocently, striding past her.

"Well I seem to remember your new business partner marching in here, threatening me, and then giving me a job. I'd prefer if that were a one-time thing, you understand. I don't shit where I eat."

"A little coarse, but I take your meaning. This isn't a business call, however. I'm just here to congratulate you."

"Congratulate me," Selina repeated.

"Your work on the Wayne job was marvelous, simply marvelous. You've proven yourself once again to be an incomparable asset. And I hope your friend – Ivy is it? – comes to work with us as well." Selina nodded, taking care to make sure that her smile didn't drop.

"I'm sure that she'll be in touch. You'd be lucky to have her."

"I'm sure we would," Gerard said. "However, she will be considerably less valuable if you've shared…certain information. I know that you two are close." Selina suddenly understood. He wanted to make sure that Selina hadn't told Ivy about double-crossing Falcone.

"Of course not," Selina said. "I know what happens to people who talk."

"Good." Gerard said, nodding. He brightened suddenly. "I'm glad you have a friend in our particular line of work. I do worry about you, Selina. You're a very lonely child."

"I haven't been a child in years," Selina replied, fighting to keep the edge out of her voice. "But I do appreciate your concern."

"You know you're like family to me, Selina," Gerard said, cupping her chin. Selina had to force herself not to flinch away. "The closest thing I have to a daughter." _Do you threaten the rest of your family at gunpoint? _The question echoed in Selina's mind. "Now, I've got to go. Things to do, people to see, you understand." Translation: I'm done with proving to you that you are completely under my power. For now.

"Thank you for stopping by," Selina said politely, holding the door open for him.

"Goodbye Selina." Gerard said, kissing her on the cheek. "I suspect that I'll be seeing you again soon." He paused halfway out the door and Selina could swear that he looked directly at the closet where Wayne was hiding. She breathed an in audible sigh of relief when he moved on without a second glance. Selina closed the door behind him and watched through the peephole as Gerard got into a car and drove off.

"I need a new apartment," Selina muttered to herself. Far too many people knew where she lived now. She needed to get off of the grid, go underground. Just for a while.

But she had a bigger problem than apartment hunting. A billionaire hidden in her closet was the much more pressing issue. Selina opened the door and froze, suddenly eye-to-eye with the barrel of a gun. Glock 42. .380 caliber automatic. Safety off and held steady. Clearly, Wayne wasn't playing around.

"Put that away before you hurt yourself," Selina growled, trying her best to look bored. She hated guns. _Hated _them. They were loud, imprecise, and any idiot could use them. Case and point: Bruce Wayne had one.

"Who was that?" Wayne demanded. "Answer me," he ordered when Selina just glared.

"Or what?" she challenged. "You'll shoot me?" In a burst of crazy bravado, Selina grabbed the muzzle of the gun and pressed it against her own forehead. "Do it then. Shoot me." Some small part of her realized that this was the second time she'd asked the billionaire to kill her, but Selina couldn't bring herself to care. At this point, she was dead either way. For a long time she'd just thought that she was good at surviving. Living under a bridge at the ripe old age of ten? Fine, no problem, Selina had managed. Navigating a city full of gang-bangers and cops that were somehow even worse? Easy. She'd learned how to play the game and play it well. But ever since she'd stumbled in on Gerard and the Penguin, Selina had sensed that her time was running out. Maybe this was where the clock stopped.

For a single moment, Selina thought that he would pull the trigger, but then Wayne pulled away, his eyes downcast and the gun hanging limply by his side.

"I'm not going to shoot you," he said heavily.

"Then put it away," Selina said again. "Better yet, give it to me." Selina outstretched her hand and Wayne's eyes flashed suspiciously.

"What so you can shoot me?" Selina rolled her eyes and lunged forward, twisting the gun out of his hand. Her knife flashed up, a warning, and Wayne stilled. Selina emptied the magazine onto the floor and popped out the single bullet in the chamber, feeling marginally better once it was disarmed.

"I don't like guns," Selina said simply, tossing it back to him. True, but she also didn't want Wayne armed in her apartment. "Enjoy your paperweight."

"So knives but not guns?" Wayne asked, tucking the useless gun into the waistband of his jeans.

"Guns are impersonal," Selina said, looking away from him. "If you're going to kill someone, you owe it to them to see the look on their face when they die." Wayne stared at her openly, caught off-guard by the rare burst of honesty. Selina scowled, realizing that she'd said too much, and threw open a back window. "Now. Get out of my apartment before I see the look on your face when _you_ die."

"But – " Wayne started and Selina felt her frayed nerves finally snap.

"_Get out!_" she shrieked, hurling her knife at him. It stuck into the wall inches from his head, the handle quivering from the force of the throw. Wayne paled and pulled himself through the window without another word. Selina watched until he turned the corner and then pulled her phone out of her pocket, hitting the second number on speed-dial.

"Leo?" she said to one of the guys in her homeless network. "There's a kid leaving my place now. I need you to follow him and make sure that he gets out of the Narrows. No, don't make contact. Just signal me when he's out. Yeah. Bye." Selina managed to hang up before her hands started shaking. Gerard and Wayne in her apartment. At the same time. Selina didn't believe in any kind of God, but if she did, she would have sworn that he was screwing her over. Or trying to give her a heart attack. Her breath was coming in quick, short gasps and Selina could swear that the room was getting smaller. She fell against the wall, sinking into a heap on the floor and pulling her knees in tight to her chest.

It was too much. Wayne, Gerard, the Penguin, all of it. Selina couldn't handle it all. She didn't know how much time had passed when her phone vibrated twice. Wayne had gotten out. Selina breathed an inexplicable sigh of relief and then buried her head in her arms, frustrated. She shouldn't care whether or not Wayne got out of Narrows in one piece, it was none of her business. She didn't care, she couldn't afford to care. She had her own problems to deal with without worrying about the safety of one goddamn billionaire. Blood pounded in her ears and Selina had to bite her lip to keep from sobbing.

Christ, she was scared.

* * *

><p>Bruce made it all the way to the bus station before his hands started shaking.<p>

"How was your outing, Master Wayne?" Alfred asked when Bruce stumbled through the main doors.

"Fine," he muttered, making a beeline for his father's study. Bruce still couldn't think of it as his own. He slammed the door behind him and collapsed onto the couch, his hands still trembling violently. He shouldn't have gone there. Bruce didn't know what was _wrong _with him. He didn't know what possessed him to track the girl – Selina, her name was Selina – down. He didn't know why he was so obsessed with finding her. Bruce had always thrown himself headlong into projects, latching onto an idea or, in this case, a person. Alfred had called them "flights of fancy," but none of them had been this dangerous. He could've gotten them both killed.

Bruce hung his head, replaying the whole afternoon in his mind, over and over. He was sure that whoever the man at the door was, he was worse than Bruce could have ever imagined. When he was hiding in the closet, he'd been sure that she was going to turn on him and give him up. He'd been ready to fight, that's why he had his gun out. Stupid. He shouldn't have been running around the Narrows with a gun in the first place.

He'd thought that he was so smart, being able to track her down when clearly she didn't want anyone to be able to find her. Not even Detective Gordon had put it all together. But that wasn't what drove him to the most dangerous neighborhood in the city, knocking on the door of a girl who'd stolen from him and attacked him in his own home. She'd just seemed so _scared _at the gala, even when she was coming at him with a knife. Like she hadn't wanted to be there at all. And then she'd said that someone was going to kill her – that _he _was going to get her killed. Bruce had to understand, he had to know who it was she was so afraid of.

And in doing so he'd put them both in more danger than they'd started out in. Bruce should have recognized his mistake the moment she'd opened the door. His first thought was that she looked vulnerable – she'd quickly proven him wrong, but at first glance, he'd thought that she seemed completely defenseless. In every other encounter she'd worn her clothes like armor; to protect herself, to blend in. But in a Gotham Knights T-shirt and jeans, the armor was gone, stripped away until she was just a person no more dangerous than anyone else. But it wasn't the vulnerability that Bruce couldn't get out of his head, or the fear coursing through his veins like poison when he was sure that she was going to give him up.

It was the way she'd looked at him, with eyes clearer and greener than he'd ever seen before. She pressed the gun to her own forehead and refused to look away, glaring at him with a mixture of defiance, despair, and an insane kind of bravery. Like she wanted him to pull the trigger, like she was daring him to.

Bruce shook his head.. He'd just wanted to understand, but how could he understand someone like her? He'd never lived in the kind danger that dogged her every step, never had to steal and scrape to survive. Now, at least, they had something in common.

God, he was scared.

* * *

><p>Sorry this update is so long-coming, guys! My computer crashed and I had to rewrite a good chapter and a half, and then finals hit, and being a premed student in college is murder, believe you me.<p>

I hope you all enjoyed the stakes getting even higher! Please review, they're what get me through.


	7. Chapter 7

"Selinaaaaaa." Selina had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. Ivy's face was inches from her own, and she stank of tequila. "Selina guess what, Selina? I'm in _looooove_."

"Ivy it is three in the morning and you are drunk," Selina said, trying to calm her heart. The news that Ivy was in love wasn't surprising. She fell in and out of love faster than anyone Selina had ever known. "You're going to get in trouble for sneaking out in the middle of the night."

"No one will miss me. I'm the smartest one there, unless you were there, in which case you would be the smartest one there, but you're not there. I wish you were there, but that would mean that you were in jail and jail is not fun. Not fun Selly." Ivy said, her words slurring. Selina sat up, leaning on one elbow. Ivy's eyes were huge, her pupils blown wide.

"Shit, V, are you high?" Selina asked, her voice ringing with disbelief. Ivy had always had a high-tolerance for drugs and alcohol. Enough booze could get anyone drunk, but Selina had never seen Ivy successfully get high.

"Yes," Ivy said happily. "It's wonderful. Everything is so…spinny. And I am in love, so in love!" Selina shook her head, throwing back the covers so that Ivy could crawl in next to her. She couldn't send Ivy back to the home like this, and Selina was happy for the company. She hadn't slept in over a week, not since Gerard and Wayne had invaded her apartment. Every little noise woke her, and she'd started sleeping with her knife under her pillow, instead on the dresser beside her bed. And then there were the nightmares, filled with Gerard's sickly-sweet voice and the look Wayne had given her when she'd told him to shoot her. His eyes dark and accusing, shocked and horrified. Every time she tried to sleep, he stared at her from behind her eyelids.

"Selina," Ivy said, pouting. "You're not listening to me."

"You're in love," Selina parroted, trying to refocus. She smiled a little. "I'm hurt. I thought that I was the great love of your life."

"Oh you know I love you," Ivy said, swatting at Selina's nose. "But you're not my type. This girl is amazing! She's a med student so she's really smart, and she likes chemistry! Do you know how hard it is to find a girl who likes chemistry? Hard, Sel. It's hard. You're going to like her a lot, I know it. You have to like her because she's important to me and you're important to me and it's important to me that you get along."

"I'm sure I'll like her." Selina said indulgently. Ivy's eyes narrowed a fraction.

"You're patronizing me, but I don't care. I'm going to sleep."

"Okay, go to sleep." Selina said. Ivy smiled and snuggled forward, pressing her forehead to Selina's. Selina closed her eyes and, for the first time in a week, slept.

"I am never drinking again," Ivy proclaimed, padding into the kitchen the next morning. Selina snickered from where she stood at the stove, pouring pancake batter into a skillet. She wasn't a breakfast person, or much of a cook either, but Selina had figured that Ivy would need it. "And Jesus, when they say 'hugs, not drugs,' they are not kidding."

"I think you should thank the tequila for the hangover. You look terrible. And yes, please help yourself to my clothes." Selina commented drily, noting that Ivy had ditched the crop top and miniskirt from the night before for a pair of Selina's old sweatpants and a loosely-fitting T-shirt. Dark makeup smudged around her eyes and her vibrant red hair was pulled up into a messy nest atop her head.

"Never again," Ivy said, perching herself on one of Selina's stools and laying her head on the counter. "Never again!"

"What did you take, anyway?" Selina asked, setting a plate down in front of Ivy.

"No idea," Ivy said, picking at the pancakes. "It was blue."

"And what about this great love who's replaced me?" Selina said, leaning her elbows on the counter. Ivy's newest love interest was always a fun topic of conversation. Ivy had dated all across the spectrum: Boys, girls, criminals, and law-abiding citizens alike. Once, Selina had tried to figure out what linked them all, what it was that garnered Ivy's interest. She'd come up blank, and eventually Selina had decided that her friend had diverse tastes. The end.

To Selina's surprise, Ivy blushed crimson, her cheeks matching her hair. "I told you about that, huh?" she said sheepishly.

"'Selly,'" Selina said in her best imitation of Ivy's voice. "'I am so in _looooooove_. She's pretty and smart and I think she might be the one Selly.'" Selina laughed, dancing around the kitchenette.

"I do not sound like that." Ivy insisted, glowering.

"You sound exactly like that."

"I hate you."

"You do not. Now, are you going to tell me about this new love of yours or no?"

"Well if you keep making fun of the whims of my heart…" she trailed off, looking offended as Selina burst into hysterical laugher. "What are you laughing at?" Selina couldn't respond, too busy trying to breathe. She laughed until there was no sound left, and she was left gasping and red-faced. For a moment, she was almost able to regain her composure, but one look at Ivy's outraged face had her in stiches all over again.

"I'm sorry…" she managed, breathing deeply through her nose. "I'm sorry, but when you say things like that – Shit!" Selina swore and ducked as Ivy hurled her fork across the small kitchenette. It wasn't a strong throw and the fork clattered to the ground without sticking into the wall. "Hey!" Selina protested as Ivy picked up her knife to throw it too. "Ivy if you throw that knife at me I will take away your pancakes, so help me God." Ivy let go of the knife, glaring sullenly.

"You are so mean to me."

"Says the one who breaks into my apartment at three am to tell me about the latest 'whim of the heart' – " Selina shrieked as Ivy threw herself across the counter, toppling them both to the ground. She tried to push Ivy off of her chest, but the redhead was at least six inches taller than her, not to mention tickling her sides. Finally, when they were both breathless with laugher, Selina gave in, holding her hands up in surrender.

"It's a good thing I'm the only one who knows how ticklish you are," Ivy gasped, laying on her back next to Selina. "Your street cred would fall to pieces." Ivy grinned. "Imagine if Gerard knew how easily his favorite gives in when tickling is involved." Selina's heart stuttered and the smile slid off of her face before she could stop it.

"Yeah," she said, standing so that Ivy couldn't see. "Imagine. So tell me," she said, changing the subject to back to something safer. "What's her name? When did you meet her?"

"Her name's Harley. We met at bio-chem seminar a few days ago." Ivy said, moving back to the counter.

"Nerd."

"Shut up. It was on the effect a rare neurotoxin on the human body. I was doing research."

"Nerd," Selina repeated, this time with emphasis.

Ivy stuck her tongue out. "It's was a cool seminar," she protested. "And I nabbed a little of the toxin from the professor." Ivy wiggled her eyebrows like some kind of vaudeville villain and Selina rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I kind of knocked into her as a distraction to get the poison, and then her coffee was all over my shirt, so she loaned me her sweater, and I offered to buy her a new coffee." Ivy grinned. "French vanilla, cream, no sugar. You'd love her, Sel, she's brilliant and sweet, and we have another date tomorrow."

"Very smooth," Selina said. She was glad that Ivy had found someone, although she couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Selina and Ivy had only ever had one-another, and Ivy had never talked about anyone else like she was talking about this Harley. "You happy?" Selina asked after a long, pleasant silence. Ivy's eyes flashed up, meeting Selina's.

"Yeah. Yeah I am. Unbelievable, right?" Ivy said softly. "I didn't think people like us got to be happy." Selina couldn't disagree. She knew the dangers of this life, they both did, and the life expectancy wasn't high. "Speaking of, I was thinking about bringing her around tomorrow after the date. Obviously not here, but I was thinking about going to the bar."

"_No_," Selina said sharply. "Sorry, that came out a little quick," she backtracked, seeing the surprise flit over Ivy's face. "It's just that Gerard's the mob and it's his bar."

"Yeah I know, but we're good with the family. Gerard actually called me the other day, said that he's got work for me if I want it." Selina had to fight from shouting at her, to keep from begging that she didn't take the job. But there was no way that Ivy would let an outburst like that slide, and that would put both of them in jeopardy.

"First rule of working for the mob," Selina said, trying to keep her voice even. "You don't bring in civilians. Speaking of…" she said as her phone started buzzing. "Talk to me."

"Sel," Papi said on the other line. "Turn on the TV. Channel ten." Selina was surprised to here from him – usually Gerard was the one to call her in. But surprise or no, he sounded deadly serious and Selina flipped on the television.

"Thanks to the generous donations provided by the Wayne Association," Detective Gordon was in the middle of saying to a throng of reporters. "We have been cracking down on mob activity. This city will no longer live in fear of gang violence. Thank you, no questions."

"It didn't work." Selina breathed. The whole point of stealing from Wayne was to discourage him from getting involved with the police.

"The boss is pissed. You need to get down here."

"Papi, if he's mad, I'm the last one he'll want to – "

"Just get down here!" the bartended snapped and hung up.

"I've got to go," Selina said after staring at her phone for a minute. If Gerard did want her, it would be better to go to him than for him to come to her.

"Is everything alright?" Ivy asked. "Who's that cop on the TV?"

"I just have to go," Selina said, quickly gathering her things and slinging her backpack across her back. "Nothing's wrong, it's a work thing." She was halfway out the door when Ivy caught her hand.

"What's going on, Sel?" Ivy demanded. "You're doing that thing where you don't blink."

"I'm fine. It's not a big deal."

"You will explain this to me when you get back."

"V – "

"You _will_ explain this to me when you get back." Ivy repeated, her voice steel and her eyes flashing in a way that Selina recognized. Ivy was not going to give in and she didn't have time for this.

"Fine, fine, fine, but I have to leave." Ivy withdrew her hand and Selina practically ran out the door. She didn't know what she was going to tell Ivy, but she sure as hell couldn't deal with it now.

* * *

><p>"He's in there." Papi said the moment she burst through the doors. Selina could hear shouting from the back.<p>

"He was _supposed _to back down," Gerard was ranting. "He was _supposed _to play the spoiled, scared little kid. And yet he's now funding a taskforce that directly works against the families?"  
>"I shouldn't be hearing this," Selina said urgently, ducking her head as if that would drown out the words.<p>

"You're the best, Sel, he's going to need you. It's better that you're here." He had no idea. No idea the kind of shit she was in with Gerard. Selina couldn't blame him – he just thought that he was helping his boss – but being in at he bar when Gerard was going on a rampage was not going to end well.

"_Papi, por favor_…" She had to leave, she had to get out of here while she still could.

"Selina." Too late. "You do have a talent for showing up when you are least wanted, dear girl." There was a sudden, manic flash in his eyes and Gerard advanced on her. Selina bit her lip to keep from screaming obscenities at him and backed up as far as she could. "Did you hear what I was saying in there? _Were you spying on me?_"

"No," Selina said quickly, eyes darting back and forth, looking for some kind of escape route. "I didn't hear anything."

"I was the one who called her, boss," Papi interjected, sounding startled at Gerard's violent reaction. "She heard _nada_, she's been with me the whole time."

"You're plotting against me, aren't you?" Gerard demanded. "You're working with the police? How else could you fail _so spectacularly_?" Selina didn't have time brace herself as his fist met her cheek and she was thrown backwards into the wall. Her head slammed backwards and she sank to the ground, suddenly unable to stand. "You were supposed to send a message!" Gerard said, hitting her again. Selina's head snapped to one side and her vision swam.

"Boss!" Papi protested, but it was like Gerard couldn't hear him. He struck her again and again, until Selina lost track of time between each blow. "You're going to kill her!" Papi shouted, finally pulling him away.

"Little bitch doesn't deserve to live. Neither of them do," Gerard snarled, stalking out of the bar.

"Sel, you okay?" Papi asked, hauling Selina to her feet. Selina didn't answer at first, too busy trying to shake the ringing from her ears. Blood was trickling into one eye and she could already feel bruises forming on her jaw and cheekbone. "I don't know what got into him. _Dios mio_, he really messed you up."

"I'm fine," Selina managed in a garbled voice, spitting blood out of her mouth. Out of her one good eye she spied Gerard's phone – he must have dropped it. "Here," she said to Papi, picking it up. "Give this back…" Selina trailed off, attention drawn to a text message that was still up on the screen. _Oh shit_. "Just give this back to him." She had to move, and she had to do it now.

"Sel, you sure you're alright?" Papi insisted, hovering over her. Selina swatted his hands away and rushed out of the bar as fast as she could.

_Get rid of the Prince, _Gerard had texted to a number that wasn't in his contacts but that Selina recognized nonetheless. _Today. _

She had to get to the Hill. Because if she was right, Bruce Wayne was going to be assassinated.

* * *

><p><strong>Consider this a Hanukkah present to all of my readers who celebrate! (Also, I'm procrastinating studying for finals). Enjoy and please review! <strong>

**~Fae**


	8. Chapter 8

The assassin's name was Newman, mostly because one day he just showed up in Gotham on day out of the blue and started killing for sport. It turned into a race between the cops and the families who could find him first – Falcone's people won out, and he'd been on the payroll ever since. He was good, too. Efficient, smart. He never left a trace, which was what made him so valuable, and so hard to track down. In the end, he'd only come in for the money. Despite the war between Falcone and Maroni, Falcone was still the stronger, wealthier family.

And now Newman was heading to White Hill to murder the heir to the Wayne fortune, and Selina was trailing behind.

_Why? _A small voice asked. _Why do you bother?_ Wayne knew where she lived, he knew what she did. It would be easier just to let him die. And yet she was on a bus to the richest neighborhood in the city, two Bowie knives hidden in her sleeves and one dropped into her boot. Something was driving her, and even if Selina didn't know exactly what it was, she couldn't puzzle it out now. As far as she knew, Newman had never failed to take out a target, and if Selina wanted to break his streak, she had to keep her head clear. This guy was one of the best, and while there was no-one better with a blade, there was taking down goons in alleys, and then there was going after professional killers. Selina was quite literally taking a knife to a gunfight.

Selina got off of the bus well before she reached White Hill – if this ended badly, she didn't want anyone remembering a scruffy-looking girl who definitely didn't fit the bill for a Hill resident. In her dark jeans and ratty old jacked with the hood pulled up, Selina looked as out of place here as Wayne had in the Narrows. Despite the fact that it was broad daylight, Selina didn't bother trying to hide from cameras; if she was right, Newman had already cut every CCTV camera in the area, and if she was wrong then she could always have Manny erase the tapes again. If she lived long enough to call him, that is.

Again, the little voice urged her to turn around and go home, back to her people where she would profit from Wayne's death, not put herself in danger to prevent it. Back to the Narrows where things made sense. But she stuffed that voice into the back of her mind and forged on, trying not to think about the fact that she didn't have a plan. The last time she'd broken into Wayne's mansion, she'd been in disguise, on a mission, hunting. Now, she was going into someone else's hunting ground and was almost completely exposed. Barely any weapons, no backup plan, just her. _Go home_, the still reasonably sane part of her chimed in again as she reached the gates. _He's probably dead by now anyway_.

If he was dead, then she didn't have anything to worry about, Selina told herself as she hopped the fence and streaked across the lawn. No alarms blared and everything remained quiet, affirming her worst fears: Newman was already here. Selina didn't bother breaking in through a window or back door; if the broken lock on the front door was any indication, Newman had just waltzed in the main entryway.

How the hell was she supposed to find Wayne? Selina still had every inch of the Manor memorized, but no idea where Wayne could be, or if he was even in the house.

"Shit." Selina swore, kicking open the door of the security center. Nearly every house on the Hill had one, but being the reclusive idiot he was, Wayne didn't have any private security. The only one who kept watch was the old butler that had been manning the house since before his parents had been killed. She'd hoped that the cameras would still be on, even if the alarms had been disabled, but every screen was fuzzy with static.

"Please, please, please, please," Selina whispered, dialing her phone and trying not to panic. She was completely blind in here.

"_Hola_," Manny answered on the third ring.

"Thank God."

"Sel? _Que pasa_?"

"Manny, I don't have a lot of time and I can't answer any questions, but I need you to hack into the Wayne system again."

"Selina, I – "

"The cameras have been corrupted and I need you to turn them back on. Just inside the house."

"What the hell are you into, Sel?"

"I don't have time for this," Selina said, her voice hiking up an octave.

"Okay, okay," Manny said, and Selina could hear keys tapping over the phone line. "Give me thirty seconds, I've already been in this system…and…I'm in. I'm turning them back on now. Please be safe, Sel."

"Yeah," she said, hanging up without so much of a thank you. Selina stepped up to the television screens, searching for any sign of movement. "Come on," she whispered when there was nothing. "Don't be dead." Selina spied a microphone on the counter, like the kind principal's used to make school-wide announcements and quickly turned it on, praying that she wasn't signing her own death warrant. "Testing, testing," she said experimentally, gratified to hear her voice echoing throughout the halls. "Shall we play a game?" A little cheesy, but the only advantage she had was that Newman thought this would be an easy job, and everything indicated that he had one hell of a temper. "Here are the rules: I'm watching everyone, and the first one I find loses. Guess what Newman," she said, injecting as much arrogance into her voice as possible. "It's open season." Selina disconnected the microphone, eyes scanning the screens. It was an insane risk, telling both Newman and Wayne where she was, but the options weren't all that great.

After a few tense seconds, Selina spied movement on one of the televisions. A large man in a long coat, no doubt armed to the teeth.

"I see you Newman," Selina goaded, turning the mic back on. "South hallway, towards the kitchen. You're going to be disappointed, because neither of us are anywhere near there." She sighed audibly into the microphone, hoping that she was right. She didn't have eyes on Wayne yet. "God, you're boring." Newman paused at her voice before wheeling around and striding the other way. He was coming towards her. She would have to move soon, and then lose her only advantage. "Warmer," she prompted as he moved even closer to her hiding spot. "Warmer, good now down that overly dramatic staircase…dammit man, that's the wrong hallway. You call yourself as assassin and you can't even follow simple instructions?" The pixels that made up Newman on the screen stiffened and she could see him mouthing curses. Selina just hoped that she could keep him wound up enough to focus on her, until she could come up with a better plan. If this came to blows, she didn't like her chances.

Selina was so focused on Newman that she didn't notice movement on the neighboring screen. Wayne was moving towards her from the opposite direction. He was on a collision course with the assassin she'd been trying to lead him away from.

"God dammit billionaire," Selina swore, holding her knife ready. She bolted out of the surveillance room, creeping along the walls and trying not to make a sound. Newman was close and if he heard her, all hell was going to break lose.

Selina nearly bit through her lip to keep from screaming when a pale hand caught her wrist and pulled her against the wall.

"We," Wayne said smoothly, pressing his body against hers so that her arms were pinned by her side, knife and all, "have to stop meeting like this." He sounded for all the world like they'd met by some chance encounter.

"Get the hell off me," Selina snarled, hating how close he was, and that he'd gotten the drop on her. Wayne's arrogant smile vanished in an instant as he saw the bruises mottling the left side of her face and the cut above her eye that had been weeping blood since Gerard had given it to her. She hadn't exactly had time to look in a mirror, but Selina knew that she looked like death.

"Who _did _this to you?" Wayne demanded, his voice low and fierce. His fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him and Selina ripped her face away.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, unwilling to raise her voice above a whisper. "Why are you here? I was telling you where I was."

"I know, I was coming to find you."

"You_ idiot_, I was telling you where _he _was too, so you could go the other way!" God, he was dense. Why the hell would he come in the same direction of the man who was trying to kill him?

"Who is he? How do you know who he is?"

"You are asking all the wrong – _fucking Christ, move!_" Selina screamed, seeing Newman round the corner out of one eye. His gun was up, aiming at Wayne's exposed back. With strength she didn't know she had, Selina shoved him away from her, nearly throwing him across the hallway. Gunfire shattered the silence and bullets filled the air. In the confusion, Wayne crashed into her, slamming her into the wall again, but Selina bounced back quickly. "Run!" she shouted, grabbing Wayne's hand. Bullets nipped at their heels as they sprinted through the halls.

"In here!" Wayne said, ushering her into a room off of the main hall and locking the door behind hem.

"That's not going to hold," Selina said, eyes darting for something they could use to bar the door. She started pushing the desk in the corner, but it was too heavy. Too late she recognized the study Wayne had trapped her in the last time she was here. Irony was a bitch.

"You're bleeding," Wayne said, staring at her openmouthed. Selina blinked once, confused, pressing a hand to her shoulder. It came away bloody. Wayne hadn't hit her in the hallway, it had been the force of a bullet that had sent her sprawling. "Shit, you got shot."

"I'm fine, it's just my arm." Selina insisted, backing away when he stepped towards her. "Don't touch me!" Wayne retracted his hand as the door boomed loudly. Newman was trying to get in. "Do you have any weapons?" she asked urgently.

"Nothing in here. What about that?" Wayne asked. Selina's eyes went to the knife she'd forgotten about. Blood was flowing freely from the wound in her shoulder, gauntleting her arm and the knife's hilt in red.

"I can't use it," Selina said shortly. "They can't know I was here, or this is all for nothing." If anything got back to Gerard and his cronies about Newman being stabbed he would know that it was her, and then Selina would be number one on his shit-list, if she hadn't claimed the top spot already.

"Who?" Wayne asked once again. "Who the hell are you so goddamn afraid of?"

"People who send guys like him," Selina sniped just as the door was busted open. "Get down!" Wayne dove under the desk and Selina threw herself behind the antique couch that was nearly ripped to pieces in a hail of bullets. They were sitting ducks.

"Hey!" Wayne shouted from his pathetic excuse for a hiding place. "I'm over here! Don't you want to get paid?" Selina cursed his stupidity, her eyes catching something mounted on the wall beside her. _Who the hell mounts a whip_? She thought before an insane notion struck her. In a flash she was standing, ripping the ancient bullwhip off of its display and praying that her crazy gamble wouldn't get her shot. Again.

The whip cracked through the air, winding its way around Newman's wrist, and Selina yanked it back, tearing the gun from his hand.

"Traitor bitch," Newman growled in a low, menacing voice, pulling out another gun. "You think I don't know you, Selina Kyle? Gerard's former favorite? How pleased he will be to hear that I have dealt with you. But first." He turned back to where Wayne was still stuck and Selina launched herself over the couch, striking again with the whip and slamming her shoulder into the assassin's midsection. Her injured shoulder, naturally. The wound screamed and for her troubles, Newman barely budged. Before Selina could break away, he caught her by the throat and started to squeeze. She kicked at him, but the assassin had lifted her clear off the ground and all she could do was clutch at her throat and try to breathe. "Now you die." Selina choked and struggled for a moment longer before she felt the barrel of a gun press against her sternum. This was it. If she was being honest with herself, Selina always expected to go out like this, in a storm of gunfire. She had always known that this life would end bloody, but the one thing she'd never expected was to die a martyr.

_Idiot. You should have stayed home_, something vindictive inside of her thought, and Selina closed her eyes, expecting to feel the bullets ripping into her chest. She flinched as a single shot rang out, but there was no pain. Maybe she was going into shock. Maybe, somehow, he'd missed, though she couldn't understand how. He'd been pressing his gun directly into her midsection. In fact, she could still feel it digging into her flesh. Her vision was starting to go dark and then the grip on her neck weakened and she dropped to the floor, gasping and spluttering.

"You keep your bloody hands off of them," an accented voice said from above her. "Well it seems that you've gotten yourself into a right bit of trouble, Master Wayne." Selina's vision swam and she couldn't get a good look at who was speaking. He was dead, that's all she knew; Newman was dead and she could see the hazy outline of his body next to hers. She needed to leave, before whoever had killed the assassin called the cops. Selina tried to rise, but there seemed to be a weight on her chest and her shoulder was on fire. Something sticky was pooling under her, wetting her cheek and oozing into her hair.

"Oh my God," a voice above her said, sounding like it was a long way away. Someone was standing over her, blocking out the light. She flinched, not liking his voice and not remembering why. "Alfred, she's bleeding. He shot her." Selina managed to lift her hand, trying to swat him away from her.

"We have to get her to a hospital."

"No! No hospitals. No… no hospitals. Don't tell…" she wheezed, wasting air, but it was important. "Don't tell them…who I…am." The last of her oxygen used up, Selina's eyes closed and she sank into the darkness.

* * *

><p>For someone who hadn't expected to wake up at all, Selina didn't spend very much time unconscious. She had never been a slow riser – years of living under bridges and overpasses had trained her to be asleep one moment and running the next – but she'd never woken up like this. It was like someone had sent a hundred volts of electricity straight to her heart. Her eyes flashed open and screamed, pain shooting through her body like acid.<p>

"Bloody hell!" a voice shouted and Selina felt hands on her midsection, pushing her backwards.

"Get off me!" Selina shrieked, thrashing against them. Her vision was tinged with red and she couldn't breathe without setting her lungs on fire.

"What the hell did you do?" a familiar voice asked. Wayne. She couldn't see him through her still-hazy vision, but she could feel him hovering somewhere around her.

"Old military trick. Bang on the chest, restart the heart." That would explain the jolt back into consciousness, and the overwhelming feeling that at least one rib was cracked.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Strong fingers gripped her chin and Selina gritted her teeth to keep from spitting at him. "My name's Alfred, and I'm trying to help you. If you don't stop fighting, you're going to bleed out, do you understand me?"

"It hurts," Selina ground out. Every breath burned and her shoulder was throbbing, sending shocks of pain throughout her entire body.

"Yeah, I know it does," he said, not unkindly. "The bullet is still inside of you, love. It hit something and bounced around in there. I think it nicked your collarbone."

"Fucking fantastic," Selina groaned. He was going to have to take the bullet out, and if she had to guess, there would be no painkillers involved. In short, she was in for a world of hurt. Her eyes rolled in her skull and Selina could feel herself losing consciousness again. "You should've let me die," she mumbled.

"Stay with me. Hey, stay with me." Alfred said, grabbing the sides of her face. "I need you to stay awake for me, okay? What's your name, tell me your name." No. She didn't want him to know her name. But despite her heart hammering like it was trying to punch through her ribs, Selina's thoughts were sluggish and no aliases came to mind.

"Her name is – "

"Alleycat," Selina snapped, cutting him off. It was regrettable, as far as fake names went, but Selina couldn't think of anything else. "Don't you speak for me," she growled, leaning up to glare at Wayne. His mouth was a tense, thin line and his eyes, though narrowed, shone with worry. Alfred stopped Wayne's remark with a cutting look, and pushed Selina back down.

"Okay, Alleycat. This is going to hurt."

"Give me something to bite on," Selina ordered in a moment of clarity, managing to inject some authority into her voice. To her surprise, neither argued, and Wayne passed her something. Selina didn't bother looking to see what. She stuffed the cloth into her mouth, biting down as hard as she could. She inhaled deeply and nodded at Alfred.

_Breathe_, she told herself. _One…two_…There was a flash of something and Selina screamed against her makeshift gag before time went fluid. She couldn't tell what was real and what was imagined, it was all just a swirling mess of voices and pain. Somewhere, someone was begging her to keep breathing, to hold on a little longer, but Selina was half-sure that she imagined it. She had moments of lucidity, but they were quickly dissolved into visions of dark eyes staring down at her, blood leaking from the corners like tears.

"Can you hear me?" Wayne's voice said from somewhere above her, cutting through the fog. Somehow, the pain had lessened. "Come on Sel – Alleycat. Give me a sign here." Selina couldn't open her eyes, but she had enough strength to whisper a single sentence.

"Don't...tell me what to do...billionaire." There was an audible sigh of relief and someone barked out a surprised laugh.

"She's going to make it." Despite everything, Selina was a survivor, through and through. Damn right she was going to make it.

* * *

><p><strong>So finals are over (praise Jesus), so I thought I'd reward myself and all of you by posting this. Most of my train ride home was editing and finishing the ending - the back half of this chapter was <em>not <em>easy to write.**

**And if I don't get another chapter up beforehand, merry Christmas to all who celebrate! (You know what I want for Christmas? Reviews. Lots and lots of reviews.)**

**Enjoy!**

**~Fae**


	9. Chapter 9

Selina didn't know where she was going to wake up. The drunk tank was a possibility, or even a provisional cell at Blackgate. She'd had her name down in _that _hotel from hell since before she lost all of her baby teeth. A hospital was also possible, though less likely. Gotham was practically bankrupt and they weren't going to spend any more tax dollars on a wanted thief than they had to. Hospitals were for upstanding citizens; unapologetic criminals got the bare minimum. The higher-ups made sure that they wouldn't keel over and die, and then shipped them off to a dark hole where no one would be bothered with them again.

For the first time she could remember, Selina woke slowly. Her mind was humming well before she was able to open her eyes, though to her frustration it felt like every brain cell was operating in slow motion. Still, she managed to start routing three separate escape plans – two for police precincts, one for a hospital – before the world finally filtered into focus.

Selina had spent her whole life preparing. Preparing to run from cops, preparing to fight her way out of any corner, preparing the best way to pull off a heist. Her whole life was spent preparing for something or other.

She was not prepared to wake up in a bed. A cell, yeah; a hospital cot, absolutely, but not a bed. Not only a bed, but the biggest goddamn bed she'd ever seen in her life. White fluffy pillows and everything. For a moment, Selina wasn't sure that it hadn't all been a dream, but when she tried to sit up her shoulder screamed in protest and every breath still stung. So. Not a nightmare then. And she wasn't in jail, so obviously she was still in Wayne Manor.

"I would prefer prison," Selina muttered. She stilled, feeling wet hair fall on her shoulders. Hair that should have been dry and matted with blood. A quick inspection revealed that the cut on her forehead had been taped shut, and the bullet hole in her shoulder was stitched up and bandaged, the wrapping looping under her opposite arm and ending about halfway to her elbow. She didn't remember anyone setting her rib – the butler's little "military trick" had fractured it for sure – but her ribcage felt mostly intact. Selina scowled, feeling her skin crawl at the idea of someone fixing her up while she was passed out. She'd always done her own doctoring, not being able to go to the hospital when she got hurt. Well, hers and Ivy's. For all of her friend's strengths, she was a horrible caretaker. She was a holy terror with a needle and her bedside manner was nonexistent. For as long as she'd been on her own, Selina had always put herself back together again, and she bristled at the idea of someone else taking care of her because she couldn't.

Gingerly, Selina forced herself out of the bed, making sure that her legs could hold her before she took a step. She had no idea how long she'd been out, and that meant she has been there for too long. No doubt the cameras she'd had Manny turn back on had documented the entire altercation between her, Wayne, and Newman, and it was only a matter of time before the footage would be turned over to the police. To be honest, Selina wasn't sure why she hadn't already been arrested. She tested the door, rolling her eyes when it didn't give under her touch. There wasn't a door in Gotham that could keep her in, and this one was no different. Careful not to rip her stitches, Selina pulled out the pin that was holding the bandages together and stuck it into the lock. It wasn't the weirdest thing she'd ever used as a lockpick.

It didn't take much for the lock to spring free. Typical. Rich people usually spent ungodly amounts of money on external security, but didn't take any precautions on the inside, confident that no one would get in. Which meant cheap, easy-to-pick locks. Which made Selina's life much, much easier.

Barefoot and holding her side to keep the bandages and her rib in place, Selina padded down the hallway, consulting the mental map in her head as she made turn after turn towards the door. She had to get out of here, and soon. She was injured and unarmed, quite literally the most vulnerable she'd ever been in enemy territory, but still Selina soldiered on.

"Good, you're awake," a politely benign voice said from behind her. She turned slowly, pressing the pin against her forearm to conceal it. The butler, Alfred, was standing down the hall from her, holding a tray in old, veined hands. The man who'd shot Newman, the man who knew military methods of resuscitation was gone, replaced by an old English gentleman who was every inch the stereotype. Christ, there was even a silver dome covering whatever he had on the dish, it was like he was something out of a cartoon or old noir movie. "Spares me the trouble of hooking you up to an IV."

"You're one hell of a shot," Selina said lightly, eying the old man up and down. He didn't look threatening, but that, she supposed, was the point. She wouldn't have guessed that he could shoot a man in the back or reset bones, but clearly neither of those things were beyond him.

"Thank you," he said, inclining his head slightly and looking pleased. "Now, I would ask you what you were doing out of bed, but I had you pegged as a fussy patient."

"Well I saved your boy's life, you dug a bullet out of my shoulder, so I'd say we're about even. I'll be going." Selina turned and made as if to walk away when the soft voice sounded again.

"You will not."

"Yeah?" Selina challenged, turning back. "You going to stop me?"

"Well I daresay you would be more than a match for me, even injured, but yes, I am going to stop you. Or, rather, the police are." Selina stiffened, hating the threat, hating that she couldn't do anything to stop him even more. Still, something nagged at her.

"If you were going to call the cops, why didn't you while I was knocked out?" Selina demanded. "Surely that would be easier?"

"I don't want to call them at all," Alfred said, looking very slightly offended. Selina didn't think he could look more than slightly anything. His face seemed to be in a state of perpetual amusement, though whether that be from the fact that he was English or the years in service, she couldn't say. "You're my patient and I'm your doctor – or closest thing to – and you need to stay here until you heal. Only if you try to leave will the authorities be notified." So she was being held captive by an old man with a mean killshot in the house of a spoiled rich kid her employer very much wanted to assassinate. Fantastic.

"And then you'll just let me go?" Selina said, her eyebrows arching in disbelief. There was no way she was walking out the door without a fight or some sort of catch.

"Well like you said, you saved my boy," he said evenly, his tone never changing. "The whole of the manor is available to you – I assume that you know your way around. For obvious reasons, your weapons will be returned to you when you leave and not before. Try not to kill my charge so soon after saving his life, yes? I know he can be a…what's the American term? Pain in the arse."

"So I've got the run of the place, but I can't leave or you'll call the cops on me," Selina repeated, just once more for clarity. "Doesn't this feel a little _Beauty and the Beast_ to you?"

"As long as you're not calling me the beast," he quipped and Selina was so startled that she couldn't help but laugh. So he could set bones, shoot, and had a sense of humor. Who would have guessed it? "Oh, and if you wouldn't mind putting that pin back into those bandages. We wouldn't want them coming undone now would we?" He smiled to himself and ambled down the hallway, no doubt to carry the tray to Wayne.

Alfred was good on his word. Nothing was closed off to her, except for the front door, and the security center, although Selina couldn't really begrudge him that. It was one thing to have a criminal running loose around his house; it was another thing altogether to have her watching them. The mansion really was beautiful, something she never really appreciated when she'd been casing the place. Enormous and lavish and beautiful. Selina wandered the hallways she'd memorized aimlessly, admiring the tasteful décor. Wayne's mother had been one hell of an interior decorator.

"People actually live like this," Selina said to herself, her voice echoing through the spacious halls. They had enough room to house half of the Narrows, servants to bring them food, security and safety and shelter beyond anything that Selina had ever dreamed of as a kid. And now, at least until she got better, it was all hers.

She hated it. She hated every inch of the huge, stupid place. She had known so many people who hadn't had anywhere to go in the winter, who'd died of hunger and cold, and yet here was the most obnoxious display of wealth she'd ever seen. Any of the crap that lined bookcases and decorated the walls could feed and clothe her people for months. Christ, no wonder the city was so bankrupt when the distribution of wealth was this fucking off-kilter. And worst of all, Selina was a part of it. These people, these residents of White Hill, they were all one of two things: Old money or gang money. Gang money was the worse of the two, for sure. So much worse, because the gangs stayed in power by instilling fear. They kept the poor violent and desperate, and the rich scared enough to keep their mouths shut and look the other way.

And Selina had thrived off of the gang lifestyle, thrived because she was smart and fast and the very, very best at stealing. Taking advantage of her own people by working for Falcone and Gerard and everyone else profiting from their collective poverty and damn bad luck. She'd been jumping through hoops her entire life, just playing the game. Helping the rich get richer and making sure that anyone down and out stayed that way. Perpetuating a system that had been trying to kill her since her mother died. And here was another _fucking game_ for her to play, to appease the rich and the bored. _Look at the criminal, trapped in her cage. We'll feed her and make her better and make her owe us, and watch her dance in the meanwhile._

That was the worst of it; knowing that she'd come out of this owing Wayne something. Even after she'd risked her life to save his, somehow this backwards world always managed to screw her. Because she'd almost died, and part of her wished that she had died, and since they didn't call the police, Selina would forever be in their debt. She would always be looking over her shoulder, waiting for them to call her in like a trained dog.

Exactly what Gerard had been doing her whole life.

Selina was so goddamn tired of games.

* * *

><p>Selina hid in her room during the day, catching hours of sleep here and there. She tossed around escape plans, but she was still too injured to make a clean getaway, especially if they had the police on speed-dial. She only opened the door for Alfred, to allow him to change her bandages and to make sure that everything was healing properly. He brought her meals as well, but Selina refused them, keeping the door locked. No doubt he had a key, but the old butler never pushed. Her hunger strike was a small rebellion and it would end inevitably, but for the time being it was the only way she could pretend she had any control at all.<p>

Though she kept the doors locked during the day, Selina crept out every night. Not for food, but looking for a way out. Her things had been taken from her, and with them, her phone. She'd promised Ivy an explanation before all of this had happened, and Manny knew that the last place she'd been was Wayne Manor. Nothing good would happen if Ivy found her here, and Ivy was definitely looking. Selina didn't even want to think about what would happen if Gerard called her in and she didn't answer. And naturally, all of the phones in the house were fingerprint encrypted, so that she couldn't make any calls without being in the system. So every night Selina stepped over the covered tray that Alfred had left outside her door and picked through the house, trying to find a phone that was unlocked while staying out of sight of the cameras.

Which was how she stumbled upon the gym. She'd known that it existed, memorized it on the blueprints as a possible escape route, but Selina hadn't imagined that it would be so big. A stupid and naive supposition she realized now - bluebloods did everything to excess, why wouldn't Wayne's home gym be reminiscent of an Olympic gymnastics training facility on steroids. There were high bars, ropes, even something that looked a whole lot like an aerial obstacle course. And that was just what she could see. Selina didn't turn the lights on, still stubbornly adamant about wanting to avoid detection, but the room was enormous and her night vision only allowed so much.

Seized by an insane, reckless impulse, Selina leaped at one of the ropes and started climbing. The rational part of her knew that this was dangerous and stupid. She should be trying to find an untapped phone, not bothering with an obstacle course, not to mention that she was still too injured to be trying something this dangerous.

"Note to self: Don't fall," Selina murmured when she finally hauled herself to the top. She stood precariously on a thin beam, but it was nothing compared to some ledges she'd made use of in the city. And while the height was enough to send a dizzy thrill of adrenaline buzzing through her veins, it was still smaller than the shortest building. But her still-wounded shoulder protested from the abuse and her healing ribs were throbbing. If she fell... She wouldn't fall.

Slowly at first, and then faster, Selina picked her way over the course, ducking over obstacles and jumping from ledges when she couldn't climb between them, and all in the dark. It was more expansive than she'd thought, winding over the ceiling and overlooking the entire gym. There was a boxing ring in the corner and an exit in the back with blue light seeping in from under the door that Selina suspected led to a swimming pool. Unbelievable. Who the hell needed a swimming pool in their house?

She was almost halfway through the obstacle course when the door creaked open and the lights flicked on. Taken off-guard, Selina stumbled, nearly pitching herself off of a beam before she managed to steady herself. Still, she couldn't help a small noise of panic from escaping before she clamped her teeth together.

"Hello?" Wayne's voice came from somewhere below her. _Shit_, Selina thought furiously. "Selina?" She didn't move, still holding onto the naïve hope that he wouldn't see her and leave. "How the hell did you even get up there?"

"Christ you're a pain in my ass," Selina griped, stretching so that she could look him in the eye. He'd already seen her. She refused to let him think that she was hiding.

"Says the girl playing in the rafters." So maybe this wasn't part of the obstacle course. Whatever, it was good practice anyhow. "What the hell are you even doing up there anyway?"

"Bored." Selina said, injecting as much casual distain into her voice as possible. "Not much to do when I'm being held against my will."

"Nothing but check all the phones?" Wayne said coolly, a stupid grin on his face. "They're all tapped, by the way, so you can stop. Who are you so desperate to make a call to anyway? Your employer in the Falcone family?" Selina made a face, dropping down to a lower beam to glare at him better. She liked being this high up; for once she was taller than everyone.

"If you honestly think I'm going to answer any of that, you're dumber than you look."

"I'll trade you," Wayne offered. "Phone call for answers."

"How do you know I won't tell someone where I am?" Wayne smiled wider at that and Selina wanted to smack him.

"Something tells me you don't want anyone to know that you're here." Well, he wasn't wrong. Selina paused for a moment, weighing her options. She didn't want to tell him anything, but she had to get a call out to Ivy. She'd be beside herself by now, certain that Selina was dead, and more importantly, Selina needed to keep her off of the right track.

"Fine. Phone call first." Selina expected an argument, but Wayne pulled out his cell without question, tossing it to her.

"It's a secure line. Can't be tracked." Wayne added. Selina didn't doubt it but ignored him, dialing Ivy's number.

"What?" The redhead snapped into the phone on the third ring. Selina felt a pang of guilt in her chest; Ivy sounded like hell.

"V, it's me." Selina said softly, angling herself away from Wayne as much as she could one-handed.

"Selina." Ivy said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Jesus Christ, Selina what is wrong with you?!" She screeched. "It's been over a week! No call, no note... I would've taken a fucking smoke signal at this point! I thought you were dead!"

"Not dead." Selina promised, cutting into her tirade.

"Then where the hell are you?" Ivy demanded. "Are you safe? Do you need extraction? I've got new bombs cooked up that could level a skyscraper... Selina please tell me you're okay."

"I'm safe." Selina said evasively. "I'm not hurt and I'll be home soon." Not _as _hurt, she amended wryly, touching the bandages wrapping her shoulder and chest.

"Where are you? I'm coming to get you."

"V." Selina said, trying to keep calm and not get sucked into Ivy's whirlwind of emotions.

"God damn it, the one time I let you out of my sight you disappear for a week. I should have come with you when you left – you were in such a weird mood – God I am so glad you're even alive, but come on Selly – "

"Ivy!" Selina hissed, raising her voice a touch. "I'm fine. I'm out of town, and this is a secure line, so you can't track it. I'll keep my promise, just wait till I get home."

"Swear you're okay." Ivy demanded, her voice cracking harshly. "Swear on something important."

"On my T-Bird and your lipstick, I'm okay," Selina said, invoking one of Ivy's oldest inventions. Aptly named Kiss of Death, it had gotten them both out of trouble more than once. "I love you. I've gotta go."

"I didn't think you loved anyone." Wayne said when Selina hung up.

"Cute." She swung herself into a sitting position and dropped the phone back down to him. "One question." Selina braced herself. She'd opened herself up to anything. Who she was, who she worked for, _why_. None were doors she particularly wanted to open, and somehow Selina knew that if he asked her, she'd tell him the truth.

"So knives and climbing. Want to explain that to me?" Selina breathed a tiny sigh of relief and looked away so that he couldn't see her smiling.

"That's two questions, idiot."


	10. Chapter 10

"People are more afraid of knives," Selina explained from above him. Bruce settled himself against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"I disagree," Bruce said immediately, his mother's scream echoing in his mind along with the impossibly loud bouncing of pearls.

"I don't care if you agree or not," Selina cut across him before the memory could take hold. "I can take a gun from you – I _have_ taken a gun from you." Even without seeing her face, Bruce could see the smile in her voice. "But no one's going to make a grab for a blade. Besides, blades are easier to conceal, and nobody expects someone my size to be armed."

"Isn't your Alleycat persona kind of well-known?" Bruce asked before he could stop himself. There was a beat of silence and then Bruce wheeled backwards as Selina swung upside down, glaring daggers.

"I went by Alleycat when I was twelve," Selina snapped. "You were going to tell Jeeves my name; I had to come up with something. I mean, look at me," Selina said, using her good arm to swing down and landing neatly on her two feet. "No one expects a girl under five four to be armed." Bruce had never noticed her height, to be honest. There had always been so many other things to pay attention to – the enormous jackets she'd been wearing in he orphanage the first time they'd met, the little black dress from the gala, a knife being held to his throat, her _hair_ – but now that he looked, she was shorter than him by at least six inches and had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes. Something she hated, no doubt.

"Then what happens when you're not armed?" Bruce asked.

"I'm always armed"

"You're not now." Bruce pointed out.

That you know of," she insisted. "And if I'm not armed, I run." Bruce raised a skeptical eyebrow. He hadn't run from her that night in the study. Bruce still couldn't believe that he'd engaged in a bona fide sword-fight. It was like something out of a cartoon, him in a suit and tie with his fencing saber, her in an all-black ensemble, brandishing her dagger and radiating dark confidence. It seemed like running had been the very last thing on her mind. "Believe it or not, standing and fighting is the best way to get yourself killed."

"You fought me."

"You didn't leave me much of a choice," she replied coolly. "And I knew I could beat you."

"You did not!" Bruce objected. Selina smiled, just a tiny upturn of her lips, but her eyes lit up. "You did not know that you could beat me."

"The sword was a surprise," she conceded. "I didn't think you'd actually try to fight me."

"And what if you didn't think you could win?" Bruce challenged. Selina shrugged and before he could even register that she was moving, she'd perched herself on the beam above him on all fours like a cat. How the hell had she _done _that? Alfred had told him that he'd fractured one of her ribs and her arm was still in bad shape. How she was still able to lift a spoon, let alone haul herself onto a rafter was beyond him. "That's where the climbing comes in."

"You're a quick study, aren't you billionaire?"

"So running and stabbing are the only two options?" Bruce asked, ignoring the dig. Selina stood on the beam and started walking, and he sped to keep pace with her. "What happens when you can't do either?"

"Then I take a beating," she said finally, after a long silence. Bruce thought of the ugly that still mottled her cheek and jaw and felt a flash of rage burn through his stomach. Had those been the result of just 'taking a beating?'

"What, so thief extraordinaire Alleycat can't throw a decent punch?"

"No, not really."

"Why the hell not?" She'd told him more than once how rough she lived in the Narrows. And Bruce had heard the stories and read the reports. People were jumped every day, killed for food, money, or just at random. Bruce found it hard to believe that she'd made it through her whole life without knowing how to defend herself without a weapon.

"Because I want to live. And sometimes you just have to take it."

"Bullshit." Bruce snapped before he could stop himself. He didn't know what it was about her, but his impulse control seemed to weaken when she was around. "You need to learn hand-to-hand."

"And who's going to teach me? You?" Selina challenged, spinning on the beam and crouching on all fours. How she managed it without falling or hurting herself further was beyond him.

"Yeah. Me."

* * *

><p>This was the dumbest thing she'd ever agreed to do, and Selina worked for the mob. Not only the mob, but she was a key player in a coup between the two crime families. All of that stupid piling up on her head and she still hadn't learned. And so, every night for over a week, she'd met Wayne in the gym and let him beat the crap out of her until the early hours of the morning.<p>

"Ow," she grumbled once she could breathe again. She could take a hit, and had, but she'd never let it happen on _purpose_. "That one hurt."

"You're still trying to run away." Wayne said, extending a hand to help her up.

"Yeah, but it's the best way not to get hit, which is the goal," Selina snapped, knocking his hand away and getting to her feet.

"The whole point if to try and fight your way around me. If you're always looking for a way to run, it makes it easier for me to knock you out." Wayne swiped the back of his head across his forehead. "Maybe we should stop for the night. Wouldn't want to get blood all over your new outfit."

"Not a chance," Selina said, ignoring the comment about the new clothes. She'd expected to change back into her old, dirty outfit, but Alfred had been supplying her with new clothing, including a new pair of combat boots and fingerless gloves that he'd dubbed "thief chic." And while Selina was loath to accept any form of charity, the street rat in her cringed at the waste of perfectly good clothing, no matter where it came from. "Come on, billionaire," she taunted, rewrapping the bandages around her knuckles. Although, it wasn't like she was throwing many punches anyways; being as small as she was, her best bet to do any real damage was to use her elbows and knees. "What, are you afraid that I'll win this time?"

"Not a chance," Wayne said, stepping lightly back into fighting stance.

"How the hell do you know how to fight anyway?" Selina asked, matching Wayne step for step as they began to circle around the ring. "Other rich kids bullying you on the playground?"

"Something like that," he replied. Selina danced out of the way as Wayne lunged at her, leaping to the opposite side of the ring. "After my parents died, I started picking fights with kids that were bigger and older than me. And after three weeks of split lips and black eyes, Alfred figured that if I was going to be fighting, I might as well win." He stepped forward and swung again. Selina blocked the attack, feeling a glow of pride before she forced it to the back of her mind.

"He's full of surprises, your butler," Selina said, taking a deep breath through her nose before darting forward. Somehow she made it through Wayne's guard before he could react, landing a solid blow to his ribs before he swung at her again. Selina slid to one knee and jabbed her elbow upward, striking Wayne's jaw and then hitting him again in the nose. He wheeled backwards, unprepared, and Selina hooked her foot around his. Wayne wobbled and fell flat, and Selina fell with him, not quick enough to jump away in time.

"You're bleeding," Selina managed, her face inches above his. Blood was flowing freely from his nose, running into his mouth and down his chin.

"Yeah, you got me pretty good there," Wayne said, reaching around her to touch the tip of his finger to the blood dripping down his face. Selina blinked, suddenly very aware that she was on top of him and that he was staring at her. Throwing off his arm, Selina surged to her feet, putting as much distance between then as she could within the confines of the ring. "I think you broke my nose." Red droplets stood out against the starched white of his shirt and Wayne touched the bridge of his nose, wincing. "Yeah, definitely broke it."

"Shit, really?" Selina said, coming closer. "I didn't think I hit you that hard. Here," she said, unwrapping her knuckles and handing him the bandages. "Use these to stop the bleeding and tilt your head up."

"Have you done this before?" Wayne asked, doing as she'd said without argument for once.

"Fixed a broken nose? Yeah," Selina said, thinking back to when Ivy had come home bleeding and she'd had to take care of her. "Do you have ice anywhere?"

"In the freezer over there," Wayne said, gesturing.

"Keep pressure on that," Selina ordered, vaulting out of the ring and grabbing the ice. "Don't move."

"Yes ma'am," Wayne said.

"What are you doing?" Selina demanded, stopping short when she turned to see Wayne stripping off his shirt.

"You're not the one who'll have to deal with Alfred if I ruin another shirt. He might up and quit this time and then I'll have to do my own laundry." Selina couldn't help the scowl that twisted her features. "That was a joke," Wayne said, pressing the ice against his nose. "I was joking. I promise I can do my own laundry."

"You need to get your nose set or it'll heal crooked," Selina said, changing the subject and determinedly avoiding eye contact.

"Can you do it?"

"You should go to the hospital."

"Bruce Wayne showing up covered in blood at three in the morning? People are going to ask questions. It'll just be easier to do it here." Selina wanted to tell him to go get Alfred – if the old man could set bones, he could reset a nose. "Please."

"Fine," Selina grumbled. Wayne took the ice off of his face, letting it hang. Selina stood as far away as she could manage, pressing her hands on each side of his nose. "On the count of three, okay?" One – " Selina jerked her hands to the right, forcing his nose back into place. Wayne swore violently, whirling away from her and yelling in pain. "Come on, don't be a baby."

"You said three," Wayne protested.

"I lied. Put the ice on it and quit whining. It doesn't hurt that badly.

"You try it."

"Please," Selina said offhandedly. "I've had worse." Wayne stilled, turning to look to her, his eyes tight.

"I noticed," he said darkly. Selina narrowed her eyes and suddenly his hand was on her face, his thumb running over a healing bruise on her jaw. "The man that you're afraid of, did he do this to you?" Selina didn't respond, too busy trying to reorder her suddenly frantic mind. The bruise – which hadn't hurt in over a week – was tingling under his touch, and her thoughts scattered in every direction.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Alfred demanded, throwing the door open with a _bang_. Somehow he still was impeccably dressed, despite obviously being roused in the middle of the night. Selina shook herself, jumping away from Wayne like she'd been electrocuted.

"I broke his nose," Selina said cavalierly. "Fixed it though."

"And _what _did you do to your shirt?" Alfred asked, nearly shouting, and taking the broken nose in stride. Selina had to appreciate his priorities. "Master Wayne, I am at my wit's end. You pick that up and _pray_ that the blood comes out, or we will have words, young man."

"Good luck with that, Master Wayne," Selina said, careful not to touch him as she ducked out of the ring.

"Can I get you anything to eat?" Alfred asked politely. "It's early, but – "

"You don't know me, but if there's food, I'll eat it." Selina said. "Lead the way." Anything to get away from Wayne.

Besides, Selina liked the kitchen. The Mansion had two, actually. One – the big one that Selina had used to stash her stuff after walking in the front door – was only used for caterers and big events. The other was small and homey, almost like the kitchen of an Italian restaurant that Selina would steal from when things in the Narrows were getting particularly lean. The walls were painted yellow, and covered with paintings of landscapes from around the world. And despite several dining rooms, there was a breakfast bar and a small table nestled in a corner by the window. In the entire manor, it was the only room that Selina didn't actually hate. Maybe because it looked like a kitchen in a real house, as opposed to something out of _Bluebloods Monthly_. Besides, it was actually stocked, as opposed to the other one, which was completely empty. Selina had checked in the first couple of days, after choosing to go hungry had gotten old.

"Whatcha making?" Selina asked Alfred, who'd started taking ingredients out of cabinets and the fridge.

"Well it is morning, so I was thinking of a little three am breakfast. How do omelets sound?"

"Perfect." Selina said eagerly, her stomach growling its assent. She'd learned very early not to be picky. Even when her mother was alive, there hadn't been much to eat, and Selina had been grateful for anything that came into the house.

"Dice those up for me, would you?" Alfred said, handing her a knife, handle-first. Selina raised an eyebrow. She had already injured one member of the house tonight. How did he know that she wouldn't take the knife and run? "I've never liked an audience when I cook," he said by way of explanation. "My policy is to put anyone in my kitchen to work. I thought this task would suit you, given your proclivity for sharp objects."

"Your kitchen?" Selina asked, taking the knife. Alfred passed her a cutting board and a bowl if vegetables.

"Make no mistake, despite any honorifics to the contrary, I am the master of this kitchen." Selina could believe it. "Where exactly did you learn to set noses, Miss?" He asked her after s few minutes of companionable silence.

"Oh God don't call me that," Selina said, cringing at the formality and ignoring the question entirely. She'd never been called "Miss" in her life.

"Well I don't know your real name and calling you Alleycat would be terribly awkward for the both of us." Selina couldn't disagree. There was a reason she'd tried to bury that old nickname. It had seemed apropos when she was young, but the older she became the more embarrassed she was to be known by it.

"It's Selina," she said softly after a while. "My name is Selina." It was a step, telling him her real name, but the old butler had very literally had her under his thumb for over a week now. If he was going to call the cops, he'd have done it and even so, it wasn't like there was any record of her after she was ten years old.

"Pleasure to officially make your acquaintance, Selina." Alfred said, managing a little bow despite juggling a frypan and a bowl full of whipped eggs. "Under undeniably regrettable circumstances, but a pleasure nonetheless."

"Believe it or not, this isn't the worst place I've been held against my will," Selina quipped, dumping her vegetables into the pan with the eggs.

"This happens to you often then?" Selina bit her lip, realizing what she'd said. She didn't know it was about the manor that was making her give up so much information. She stayed silent, fiddling with the knife in her hand. "Selina, if I may. What is a reaper?"

"That's a dangerous question," she replied softly, setting the knife down very cautiously. "How do you know that word Alfred?"

"Money talks," he replied in measured tones. Of course it did. Money ruled Gotham and everyone in it. And it shouldn't have surprised her that Alfred had looked into the criminal under his roof.

"Money should stay the hell out of my business," she said sharply. "What do you want from me?"

"It's just a question."

"No it's not. You don't know anything about me; you don't know what I've done, or what I'm capable of – "

"I know that you saved Bruce," Alfred said quietly, cutting right through her tirade. "And I know that you burglarized his mansion before. Coming back here was incredibly dangerous, you could have been killed, I could have called the authorities, and yet you came anyway. What I want to know is why a thief would bother."

"Because he already owns me!" Selina burst out before reason could kick in and shut her up. "He doesn't get anyone else. He doesn't get to _take anyone else away_." Hot tears crowded in the corners of her eyes and Selina spun out of the kitchen before they could fall.

"Selina – " Wayne said, appearing in the hall and catching hold of her wrist. His eyes were wide with alarm, studying her like they always did. "Hey are you alright?"

"Don't touch me!" she hissed, ripping her hand away. "I'm done! I'm done with you, and your stupid mansion, and whatever sick game you and the old man are playing by keeping me here. I don't care anymore. Let him call the cops on me, I'm leaving. I can't stay in this _fucking _place anymore. Next time an assassin's coming to kill you, you're dead, because I am _not_ coming to rescue you. You're on your own. I am _done_." Selina blew past him, leaving Wayne looking hurt and confused behind him and her heart stuttered a little.

She didn't care – she wouldn't allow herself to care. She was leaving.

* * *

><p>Such drama. Also, sorry this update took so long, I just got back to school and the new semester is already kicking my ass.<p> 


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